


Penumbra

by CelticKnot



Series: The Paths We Are Given [3]
Category: Mass Effect (Comics), Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Adventure, Amnesia, Backstory, Blackmail, Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Infertility, Mystery, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticKnot/pseuds/CelticKnot
Summary: Illium, 2173. Thane wakes up in an abandoned warehouse, badly wounded, and with an inexplicable hole in his memory. He seeks help from a friend to investigate, but soon finds himself the subject of a sadistic plot. The hunter has become the hunted, but she doesn't just want him dead. She wants him broken.





	1. A Tragedy of Errors

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt: "You've woken up covered in blood, a weapon in your hand, and you can hear the sound of the police coming in the distance."

His senses returned one at a time.

The taste of blood in his mouth.

The smells of ozone and dust in the air.

The cold, hard concrete of the floor beneath him. Something wet and sticky.

A deafening silence around him, and in the distance, sirens.

He opened his eyes.

Dim yellow light. A single, flickering bulb listlessly illuminated what seemed to be a warehouse of some sort, windowless and musty. Old machinery, long since stripped for parts and rusted from disuse, towered menacingly overhead, steel tentacles rising up out of the floor like a _matanma_ out of the sea. But unlike the leviathan of Rakhanian legend, this monster sat still and silent, harmless, and inanimate.

Thane pushed those fanciful thoughts aside as he dragged himself into a sitting position, every muscle screaming in protest. He gasped as the movement pulled at a deep laceration in his left side that he didn't remember sustaining. Pressing one hand to the wound, he realized he still held his dagger in the other. The blade was streaked with blood, glistening and black in the semi-darkness.

His head throbbed in time with his accelerating pulse as he struggled to remember where he was. He'd taken a contract—Aselda Ceris, an asari mercenary on Illium, was the target. He remembered packing his things. Booking passage into Nos Astra. He remembered…

 _I am about to board the ship when a hand catches my arm. The smell of spice on the spring wind. I turn, and Irikah pulls me to her, into a kiss that tastes of longing and loneliness and, ultimately, resignation. She wants to beg me to stay, but she knows I cannot. Knows I_ _…_ _I will not. And so she whispers only, "_ _Arashu protect you._ _"_ _Sunset-colored eyes shimmer with unshed tears._

 _Kolyat_ ’ _s eyes are full of tears, too, and disappointment. He has no words for me at all, and turns away._

He remembered the ship lifting off from Kahje. He remembered approaching the mass relay. And then… nothing. Nothing until waking up here, covered in blood, weapon in hand, with police sirens approaching.

Logic suggested he'd made it to Illium and begun tracking his target, but had been attacked and overwhelmed, and presumably left for dead. He must have been struck on the head during the fight. If he was concussed, as he strongly suspected he was, that might account for the missing memories. Might it not?

A few minutes' worth, perhaps. But he had to be missing at least a day, if not more.

No, it still didn't add up. But there wasn't time to puzzle it out—he had to get moving before the police arrived with questions he could not answer.

As he staggered to his feet, dizzy and aching, more blood gushed out over his fingers. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and he had to brace himself with one hand on the wall to remain upright. His eyes wouldn't focus. The frayed edges of panic started to unravel more rational thoughts. He didn't know where he was, or how he'd gotten here. He had to get out, to get away from here, he had to go—

There, a door. He reached for the controls, his arm responding sluggishly as though he were trying to move through deep, icy water, and keyed it open with trembling, clumsy fingers. He stumbled out into light so bright it rang in his ears.

Orange sunlight. Glass spires in shades of cerulean and indigo. Illium, indeed.

But this place was abandoned. Thane sank to his knees as blood continued to splatter the floor in lurid red. At this rate, he had minutes remaining. With the last of his fading strength, he activated his omni-tool and composed a message. A short one: a NavPoint location and the word… the word… what was the code word they had agreed upon? The one his contact would know meant he was in dire straits? His mind felt as blurred as his vision, and the word escaped him. So he added only, _emergency_ , and prayed she would come.

And then the darkness claimed him.

* * *

He awakened again to the sound of beeping monitors and the smell of antiseptic. The pain of his wound was gone—no, not gone, but buried beneath the floating numbness of powerful medication. He could still feel its presence as a… a wrongness, a violation. A curious sensation. But no more actually painful than the IV line in his arm.

 _I_ ’ _m alive. Arashu be praised._

"Sere Krios? Are you awake?"

Thane's eyes snapped open. There was only one person on Illium who should know him by name, and that voice was not hers. He shook his head, trying in vain to clear the drug-induced fog from his brain, and searched for the source of the voice.

In a chair beside his bed sat a human woman he did not immediately recognize. He studied her for a moment, taking in her angular features, her thick black hair with its scattered strands of silver, and the dark glasses covering her eyes. A thin white cane rested within easy reach of her hand. No, this was nobody he knew. "Who—" he began, but dissolved into a fit of coughing before he could continue. His throat was scratchy and so dry as to make speech nearly impossible.

"Careful, you'll rip your stitches," the woman said gently. "It was touch and go for a while there, and they had to intubate you while you were in surgery. Don't try to talk." She leaned forward, one hand fluttering along the bedside table until she found the glass of ice water that waited there, and held it out to him. "Here, take a drink. Slowly, now."

Thane eyed her suspiciously as he caught his breath, debating the wisdom of accepting a drink from this stranger. He had no idea who she was or what she was doing here. But if she truly wanted to harm him, she'd certainly had more than enough opportunity to do so before now. And refusing would accomplish nothing but to delay his recovery.

Though it was clear she could not see his face, the woman read his hesitation for what it was, and smiled reassuringly. "Relax, Sere Krios. My name is Cecilia Draiman; I'm—I work with Deena T'Neri. She sent me to keep an eye on you." She chuckled. "So to speak."

Ah, that would explain how she knew his name. It would seem his contact had indeed received his message and sent help, though it concerned him that she had shared such information with her associate. Deena had always respected his insistence on absolute privacy, even if she only thought she knew what he was so fiercely protecting.

He took the cup from Cecilia's hand and sipped slowly at the water. Swallowing was difficult at first, but the water felt so good it took a considerable exercise of discipline to keep from gulping it down as fast as he could. Finally, though, he felt ready to venture a few words. "Thank you, Ms. Draiman," he said, his voice coming out hoarse, but at least audible.

"Please, it's just Cecilia."

"Very well." Thane took another sip of water, allowing the cold to soothe the burning in his throat. Speaking was decidedly uncomfortable and probably ill-advised, but he needed information. "Cecilia, I need to speak with Deena immediately. It is a matter of some urgency, and I must—"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door: more announcement than request, as it slid open immediately to admit a tall, purple-eyed asari whose anxious fidgeting relaxed the moment she saw him. "Thane! Oh, thank the Goddess you're all right!" She rushed to his side and took both of his hands in her own. "I came as soon as I could. I've been worried sick."

"Deena," Thane croaked, the warmth of his greeting masked by the roughness of his voice. He cleared his throat with a wince before continuing, "I must thank you, for saving my life."

"After what we learned about Ceris, I was almost expecting something to happen," Deena replied, shaking her head. "Dreading it, hoping it wouldn't, but expecting it."

Thane raised his brow ridge in surprise. "We've spoken about Ceris?" The beginnings of a headache coiled tightly behind his eyes. Just how much time was he missing?

"Of course. You came to me the moment you arrived in Nos Astra." Deena frowned. "You don't remember?"

"No, I… no." He glanced over at Cecilia. "My apologies. May we have a moment?"

Cecilia nodded and stood, taking her cane in her hand. "Sure. I'll be right outside."

"That's all right, Cece, you can go home," said Deena. "I'll stay with him for a while. Tell Maralei to cancel the rest of my appointments, and I'll see you later, okay?" She stopped Cecilia briefly with a hand on her elbow, and kissed her cheek. "And thank you."

When they were alone, Deena pulled up the chair Cecilia had vacated and sat down. "Thane… what happened out there?" she asked in a near-whisper.

" _I don_ _'_ _t know._ _"_ Thane gritted his teeth, hissing in frustration. "My memory stops shortly after leaving Kahje. I can recall nothing from then until waking up in that warehouse."

Deena's eyes widened as she gasped, "But that's nearly four days!"

Her words coursed through him like an electric shock. _Four days!_ As far as he could tell, he had said goodbye to Irikah mere hours ago. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as he struggled to remember anything that had happened since then: arriving at Illium, speaking with Deena, tracking Ceris, anything. But he was rewarded only with a headache like an ice pick being driven into his temples, and a wave of dizziness and nausea. The memories were simply, impossibly, gone, torn away, leaving ragged edges raw and bleeding.

Four days. The contract on Aselda Ceris was supposed to be a simple one; he should have completed it by now. But clearly, something had gone terribly wrong. "What can you tell me?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice calm. All he really wanted to do was pepper her with questions until something jarred his memory loose—but panicking would accomplish nothing. He forced himself to keep his breathing even and tried to slow his racing heart, silently cursing the monitors that so loudly betrayed his agitation.

Deena blew out a long breath. "Well, like I said, you came to me as soon as you got here," she replied. "You told me about your contract, and I gave you what information I had on Ceris." She kept her words carefully vague, Thane noticed, acutely aware of the hospital's security cameras. It was one of the things he appreciated about her: her operational security was unparalleled, except perhaps by the Shadow Broker himself. "I still have the files available, if you need them again, though I don't know how much help they'll be anymore. You were able to find her and, ah, arrange a meeting. That was yesterday morning, and I didn't hear from you again until… this." She gestured helplessly at him. "When I got your message, I sent an agent who was already nearby to investigate. EMS had already been dispatched by the time he arrived; I can only guess you called them before you passed out. The police are still processing the scene, but the only weapon they found was your knife—and the only blood on it was yours." Clenching her fists, she all but snarled, "She somehow managed to stab you with your own blade."

"She is a mercenary—is she not?" Thane suppressed a shudder as he spoke; to be suddenly unable to trust his own memory was… deeply unsettling. "It stands to reason she would be a capable fighter. It would not be my first defeat."

"And she probably thinks you're dead," Deena mused. "We may be able to use this to our advantage." She stood and patted his shoulder. "You rest, and heal. I have an idea. I'll be back soon."

"Wait." Thane caught her arm before she could leave. "There is one more thing I must speak with you about." He waited for her to sit back down, then continued, "Deena, we have worked together many times over the years. I have trusted you with personal information that must never be shared, and up to now, you have never betrayed that trust."

"Of course not!" Deena jerked back, horrified. "I would never! Thane, what is this about?"

"Your associate. Cecilia." His jaw clenched. "You told her my name. You have endangered my—you don't know what you've put at risk. If our working relationship, if our _friendship,_ is to continue, I must know how this happened."

Deena looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. "Ah, of course. You don't remember," she said tightly. "Cecilia isn't just my associate, she's my bondmate. And she's the best hacker I've met in five hundred years. She helps me keep my systems secure by breaking in and showing me where the weaknesses are. The other day, she found you." She raised her head and met his gaze evenly. "I guarantee you, no one but she saw anything. And I have sworn her to absolute secrecy. You can trust her as you would me."

A hacker. That was distressing. Though Thane had gone to great lengths to keep his private and professional lives separate, it was inevitable that some links still remained, however deeply buried. Someone with enough skill and sufficient resources—say, access to the systems of a well-connected information broker like Deena—could likely find out whatever they wanted to know about him, given the right starting information. That could make his wife and son targets, and he would do whatever was necessary to prevent that from happening.

It had taken a long time for Thane to come to trust Deena sufficiently to cease using an alias in his dealings with her. And even then, if it hadn't been for the very specific and personal set of circumstances for which he'd sought her aid two years ago, he might never have shared his name with her at all. It had been an enormous leap of faith on his part, and one Deena had never before given him reason to question. But this Cecilia, he did not know at all. He had to rely entirely upon Deena's word.

It did not escape him that she did not volunteer whether or not he'd forgiven her this security breach before. His first, suspicious thought was that he had not, and that she was taking advantage of the mysterious hole in his memory in an underhanded plea for a second chance. But that was unfair—he knew Deena better than that. More likely, he decided as he studied her, she was allowing him to draw his own conclusions and make the decision again, unbiased. She was showing him the respect they had always shared.

The question, then, was: did he trust her judgment, or did he not? "Very well," he said finally. "I am willing to trust her, if you do."

He could only pray he would not come to regret it.

* * *

As soon as she felt the automated skycar's flight path level out, Cecilia activated her omni-tool and called her contact. It chimed, unanswered, for several interminable seconds. _You_ _'_ _re toying with me. Pick up, damn you._

Finally, the familiar voice of Aselda Ceris replaced the insistent chime. _"_ _Hello, Cece._ _"_

Cecilia gritted her teeth. "You don't get to call me that, Ceris," she snapped.

" _Of course, Cecilia darling._ _"_ Her voice was patronizing and fairly dripped with cloying sweetness. It made Cecilia's stomach turn. _"_ _Do you have something for me?_ _"_

She hesitated, just a fraction. She could lie. She could probably escape Illium before Ceris found out. And if she couldn't… well, the fallout would be intense, but brief.

And probably fatal—or worse, knowing Ceris's uniquely creative mind. Cecilia bit back a resigned sigh. "He's alive. He'll recover."

" _Good. And his memory?_ _"_

"Scrambled all to hell."

Ceris clicked her tongue. _"_ _No need to sound so disapproving, darling. It_ _'_ _s all a part of the plan. I have what I needed, so now it_ _'_ _s time for me to lay low. You will keep him off my tail until it_ _'_ _s time._ _"_

"Time for what?" Cecilia demanded furiously. "You want me to keep an assassin from his contract? And not just any assassin—this is Thane _fucking_ Krios we're talking about here, Ceris. You're putting the galaxy's biggest target on my back!" Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Ceris couldn't possibly know what she was asking!

But Ceris would not be moved. _"_ _I know. I need you to draw some fire for me for a while. Some things can_ _'_ _t be rushed._ _"_ Her voice darkened. _"_ _And it_ _'_ _s not like you have a choice, darling. I own you. Say it._ _"_

Cecilia's shoulders slumped in defeat. "You own me." She hung her head. "How much time do you need?" she asked tonelessly.

" _If all goes well, about eleven months, give or take. I_ _'_ _ll keep you apprised._ _"_

"Eleven _months?"_ Cecilia's jaw dropped open. "How the hell do you expect me to—what are you even planning that's going to take eleven… _oh."_ The realization hit her like a sledgehammer, and her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "Oh, _fuck,_ Ceris. You didn't."

But Ceris laughed, high and loud and near-hysterical. _"_ _Oh, yes. I did._ _"_


	2. Faith and Trust

"Irikah." Kaedi Saavas embraced her sister warmly, then held her at arm's length, frowning. "I would say it's good to see you, but you look unwell. Are you all right?"

Irikah hesitated, tempted for a moment to pour out everything right here on Kaedi's doorstep. The sleepless nights, the harried days, the anxiety and the doubt. Now that she was here, it all threatened to bubble over. She and her sister had been close ever since they were children, and even now, they told each other everything. Sometimes she felt it was the only thing that kept her sane. More than anything, it was that connection she needed now.

But for the moment, she settled for a polite lie. "I'm fine." She tipped her head toward her son, standing beside her. _Not in front of Kolyat._ This conversation was not for his ears.

Kaedi gave her a knowing nod and a look that promised the subject had not been dropped. Arashu bless her, she always understood. Then she turned a bright smile on her nephew and scooped the giggling boy off the ground with an exaggerated grunt. "You're getting bigger every day, Kolyat," she said. "Are you sure you're not a krogan?"

"No, Aunt Kaedi!" Kolyat laughed as he flung his little arms around her neck, and she staggered under the sudden shift in his weight. A wistful smile spread across Irikah's face, and tears welled up in her eyes. At nearly eight years old, Kolyat would soon be too big for such playful antics. He was growing up so quickly.

And Thane was missing it all.

It had been more than five years since Thane had taken up freelancing his… particular skills. In that time, he had been away more often than he'd been home, and Irikah had increasingly relied on Kaedi for help. Not just in caring for Kolyat, but in keeping herself together when she thought the loneliness and worry might drive her mad. Her sister was her rock, her anchor, in ways her husband could never be.

Their father called it shameful—not that his daughters were so close, but that they needed to be. He had mistrusted Thane from the very beginning. He had disapproved of Thane leaving the Compact, calling him _dresa'ar,_ deserter. He had tried every tactic he knew to dissuade Irikah from pursuing the relationship. It had taken Irikah and Kaedi both, pleading and in tears, to convince him to attend the wedding. And now, with Thane "away on business" more often than not, he seemed more convinced than ever that Irikah had made a grave mistake.

The only advice he ever offered her was to take Kolyat and leave. To simply not be there when he came home.

Thane knew none of this.

Kaedi set Kolyat back down on his feet and ushered them both inside. She had already prepared a pot of tea, and poured some for Irikah and for herself as Kolyat scampered off to do his homework. They sat facing each other across the kitchen table, and Kaedi waited in patient silence for Irikah to gather her thoughts.

For her part, Irikah wasn't sure where to begin. Kaedi had no idea what Thane actually did for a living, only that he was an "independent contractor" and traveled often. She had never pried further than that, for which Irikah was eternally grateful. But like their father, she didn't trust him. That Thane was so closemouthed about his career and his past did not sit well with Irikah's gregarious little sister.

Irikah hated having to hide it from her, even if it was for her own protection. With everything else they shared, it felt like a breach of trust. And that made it difficult to talk to her when Irikah needed her most.

As she always did, she briefly considered breaking down and telling her. But what would she say? _My husband, your brother-in-law, is an assassin. A murderer for hire._ She could imagine no version of that conversation that ended well. Oh, Kaedi would take the secret to her grave, without a doubt. But Irikah feared their relationship would be damaged beyond repair.

No, telling her was, as always, out of the question. Instead, Irikah said simply, "I am worried about Thane."

Kaedi snorted softly. "As am I, Sister. Though in a different way, I suspect."

Irikah bristled. "If I wanted to have that argument, I'd have gone to see Father," she snapped. "Please just listen to me for a moment." Glancing back toward the guest room—where Kolyat was ostensibly working on his assignments and not fooling around playing Extranet games—she pitched her voice low so he wouldn't overhear. "I worry because I've not heard from him in too long. He said he would be gone six days, perhaps seven at most. It has now been nine. I fear something has happened to him."

"Thane's 'business trips' have always been… hmm, unpredictable," Kaedi replied.

But Irikah could only shrug helplessly. "I know. But something just feels different this time. My imagination is running away with me. I can't stop picturing him wounded or dead or… I don't know. Maybe I am going mad, finally." Gritting her teeth, she glared into her tea, watching the play of light on the surface without really seeing it. "He promised he would be home for Kolyat's name day. He _promised."_ Her voice came out in a harsh whisper that bordered on a growl.

Kaedi raised her eyebrow ridge. "That's tomorrow."

"I know."

"He's made these promises before."

"I know."

"And not once has he ever—"

"I _know!"_ Irikah slammed her fist into the tabletop, making their mugs rattle and tea slosh over the sides. But the anger faded as quickly as it had come, and she buried her face in her hands. "I know. Perhaps it was foolish of me to think this time might be different. But of all name days to miss, his _eighth…"_

Kaedi sipped her tea in silence, allowing her sister space to think.

Drawing a shaky breath, Irikah forced herself to calm down and be rational. "It's probably too soon for me to worry about this," she said. "After all, Kolyat's name day is not until tomorrow. And it is not unusual for Thane to be unable to contact me when he is delayed. The nature of his work is… sensitive." She shook her head. "I choose to trust him. I must."

"Hmm." Kaedi set her mug back down on the table and leaned forward, folding her hands. "And who are you trying to convince of that? Me?" She fixed Irikah with a level stare. "Or yourself?"

Irikah could only stare back, slack-jawed, uncertain how to respond.

* * *

Deena had picked him up at the hospital personally. From the passenger seat of her skycar, Thane stared out at the Nos Astra skyline, unseeing, absorbed in his own thoughts.

He had never had much patience with hospital stays, and this one had been particularly trying. Though his wound was healing well, a minor infection had settled in his lungs: according to a nurse, likely a result of the breathing tube. It was an uncommon but not unheard-of complication, she'd said, especially in drell. A course of antibiotics had cleared it up fairly quickly, though Deena had no shortage of sarcastic remarks about the competence of the hospital staff—less genuine criticism, however, than helpless worry.

And as soon as the attending physician had learned of his memory loss, she had ordered a battery of physical and psychological tests. Brain scans, blood draws, endless barrages of repetitive questions. He had drawn the line when she'd suggested, as a last resort, a form of hypnotherapy—he wasn't sure he believed in its efficacy, but he couldn't risk revealing anything that could put his family in danger.

Between the post-operative complications and fruitless testing, his discharge had been delayed by days, and he had grown increasingly anxious during that time. He needed to complete his contract and get home. Kolyat's name day was approaching, and though Thane had missed name days before—and holidays, and anniversaries, and plenty of other important occasions—his son would be turning eight. A father should be present for a milestone like that.

When it had become clear that he would not be able to return in time, however, he had considered trying to get a message to Irikah. She would be worried, and angry. Perhaps he could at least alleviate the former. Certainly Deena should be able to get a secure communication to Kahje, or if she could not, Cecilia could.

But he had quickly dismissed that idea as far too dangerous. Though he had decided to work with Cecilia, the idea of letting her contact his family made him uneasy. Even Deena did not know about them. He could not give such information to a woman he barely knew, no matter how much Deena trusted her.

No, his only choice was to wait out the testing until the doctor saw fit to let him go, track down and eliminate Aselda Ceris as quickly as possible, and get home as soon as he could. He would beg Irikah's forgiveness, and accept whatever consequences she deemed appropriate.

Sweet Arashu, he didn't deserve her. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had stayed with him this long. He knew he tested her patience to its limits, and he knew Kolyat was beginning to resent his long, frequent absences. But he had to provide for them in the only way he could. And Irikah understood that. She knew his heart.

Of course, there was the option of just going home. He could break the contract, forfeit the pay, and be back on Kahje in a day and a half. Money would be a little bit short until he recovered from his injuries and found another commission, but they had made do with less before.

But he had to think logically. Breaking the contract would have serious consequences. Though his employer for this job had insisted on anonymity—not unusual for those seeking his services—that was not to say they weren't well-connected. Thane would forfeit more than just the pay for Ceris; his professional reputation would be permanently damaged, if not destroyed. This employer would certainly never trust him again, and would likely spread the word of his failure to others who might seek him out. He might even find a target on his own back.

_This_ was all he knew how to do. He had tried, for Irikah's sake and for Kolyat's, to find another way to support them. But freelancing his Compact-trained skills had been the last resort. If he lost this, it would ruin them.

Surely, Irikah understood that. _She must._

When the utterly frustrated doctor had finally released him into Deena's care, it was with strict instructions to return if any additional neurological symptoms presented themselves, and a prescription for pain medicine he had no intention of filling. It would be some time before he was wholly back in fighting shape, but he needed his mind clear. He would need a way to take Ceris out from a distance, and to do that, he needed to outsmart her. To stay a step ahead. A little pain he could ignore, but he could not accomplish anything with his brain addled by drugs.

"You'll stay with me and Cecilia while you recover," said Deena, pulling him abruptly from his reverie. "I've prepared the guest room for you, and I had your things brought over from the hotel you were staying in."

He frowned, uncomfortable with the thought of intruding in her personal life thus. "Thank you, Deena," he replied, "but that really won't be necessary."

"Nonsense. You're not just a client, Thane, you're my friend." She flashed him a wink and a cheeky grin. "And if that's not enough for you, well, then you'll just have to forgive a five-hundred-and-twenty-something her motherly instincts."

Thane raised his eyebrow ridge. "I am not a child."

"Compared to me, you are," she shot back. The tone of her voice suddenly brooked no argument. Her eyes narrowed slightly, giving Thane the distinct impression he'd inadvertently offended her somehow. "Besides, I have a plan to keep Ceris from looking for you—one which will be much easier to execute if you fall off the grid for a while." She shrugged. "At least until you get your strength back."

It did make sense, he had to admit—he was in no shape to face Ceris again right now. He tipped his head, conceding her point. "Very well. Again, thank you."

Deena smiled, whatever had troubled her a moment ago apparently forgotten. "I knew you'd see it my way."

* * *

" _Cecilia, darling."_ Despite the endearment, Ceris's voice was cold and sharp as a steel blade. _"I do not appreciate being lied to."_

Cecilia swallowed hard, her heart pounding. "What do you mean?"

"' _He's alive. He'll recover,'"_ Ceris snapped, throwing Cecilia's words back at her in a nasal mockery of her voice and accent. _"Do you care to tell me why the hospital says he's_ dead?"

_Damn it._ Ceris had actually checked the hospital records? Why would she do that? She was supposed to be staying away from Krios, not hunting him down. And she'd given Cecilia the job of keeping him off her back.

Ah, but that was the problem. Ceris had the leverage to blackmail Cecilia into doing anything she wanted, but that didn't mean she trusted her. Quite the opposite. She kept Cecilia on an extremely short leash, second-guessing her methods and double-checking her results, almost paranoid that Cecilia would one day betray her.

It might have been hurtful if it wasn't so damned frustrating.

But Cecilia had an opportunity here. A chance at, if not a way out, at least a way to turn the tables a little. Manipulate the manipulator, maybe keep her crazy in check long enough for her master plan to come back and bite her in the _azure._

All she had to do was keep Ceris convinced that Krios was dead for a little while. Just long enough for him to get back on his feet. Then he would do what he did best—and Cecilia would be free of her once and for all.

It was really fucking risky, but she had to try. "It's what you wanted, ultimately. Isn't it?" she asked, testing the waters tentatively, silently grateful for the audio-only connection. God only knew what her face was giving away right now. "You wanted Krios dead. Does it really matter how?"

She regretted it instantly.

" _Of course it matters!"_ Ceris all but shrieked. _"Do you know what he did to me? Do you_ know? _He took away the only thing that ever mattered to me! And_ you…" Her voice dropped to a snarl. _"You have robbed me of my revenge."_

Cecilia's hands shook, her breath came hard and fast, and she couldn't tell if she was about to throw up or pass out. "Aselda, please, you can't blame me for—"

" _I'm going to destroy you, Cecilia. I'm calling the police right now. I'll expose everything you've ever done for me, and you'll rot in an asari prison for the rest of your short, miserable little—"_

" _Wait!"_ Cecilia cried.

Silence, her only response. Expectant and judgmental.

Cecilia let out a long, slow breath, feeling her opportunity slip from her grasp, the spark of hope guttering out before it could light. "I never said he was dead," she mumbled. "I only asked if that's what you wanted."

" _Oh, you did, did you?"_ Ceris drawled. The sudden change in her voice from volcanic fury back to icy suspicion left Cecilia dizzy. _"And I suppose you'll expect me to believe he faked the records himself."_

"No, I… that was me," Cecilia replied dully.

Ceris hummed thoughtfully, that low, rumbling purr that often foreboded her darkest ideas. _"And why, pray tell, would you do that?"_

"Deena asked me to. And I still have to be"—she caught herself and shook her head—"to _appear_ to be a good wife."

There was an instant's pause, during which Cecilia thought her heart might stop. Then Ceris burst out laughing. _"Excellent!"_ she crowed. _"That's my good little human pet. This is why I like you, Cecilia—you know how the game is played. You understand. You_ get it."

"Yes," Cecilia whispered. "Yes, I… I understand."

" _Where is he now?"_

"He's…" Cecilia's heart sank. She had hoped she wouldn't have to tell her, but as she'd just learned, she couldn't lie. "He's here. With us. Deena invited him to stay at our apartment while he recuperates."

" _With you? Oh, how perfect!"_ Ceris cried, clapping her hands in delight. _"That could make this whole debacle actually work to our advantage."_

_Your advantage, not ours,_ Cecilia thought sourly. "Really? How is that?"

" _Why, having you right there to run interference, my dear,"_ said Ceris, her voice high-pitched and cooing as if she spoke to a child. _"You can keep an eye on him. Pretend to help him in his little hunt, and… you know, redirect him if he gets too close. Fake some evidence or something. Couldn't be simpler."_

"And how will I _know_ when he gets close, Ceris?" Cecilia demanded. "I have no idea where you're hiding."

" _Good point, darling. I suppose… I suppose I'll have to trust you a bit after all."_ Her tone darkened as she continued, _"You will not make me regret this."_

It was not a question, nor was it an observation. It was a command—and a threat.

Cecilia's jaw clenched, but she forced herself to sound fawning and innocent. "Of course not."

" _Of course not,"_ Ceris repeated dryly. She gave a short, resigned sigh. _"I'm on Cyone. That's all you need to know."_

"I'll keep him as far away as I can," Cecilia promised.

" _Keep me apprised."_

"I will."

As the line went dead, Cecilia sat back in her chair and let a smug grin spread across her face. _Cyone._ It wasn't much, as far as intel went. And she had nothing so much as resembling a plan. But it was something. She'd gotten Ceris to trust her with something.

_Small victories._


	3. We're All Mad Here

"Good morning, Ms. T'Neri. How is your friend?"

"He'll be all right. Thank you for asking, Maralei." Deena settled in behind her desk and opened up her computer, setting to work immediately. She held out a credit chit to her secretary. "Can you be a dear and get me some tea, please? Something strong and sweet."

"Of course, ma'am." Maralei set down the datapad she'd been holding and took the chit from Deena's hand. "And when I get back, perhaps we can begin to prioritize your backlog of—"

"Not today."

Maralei's jaw dropped open, and she blinked in astonishment. "But, Ms. T'Neri," she protested, "you have important clients waiting! And some of them are beginning to get agitated."

Deena finally stopped for a moment and looked at her. Instantly, Maralei began to worry. Her boss had that steely, determined look in her eyes that meant she was on a personal mission. Probably something to do with whatever had happened to that unnamed friend of hers. That was the thing about Deena: she was loyal to a fault, and she had the resources to back it up. If someone she cared about was hurt, well, Maralei could only pity the fool responsible.

But Deena would burn the candle at both ends until the job was done. Maralei could tell from the dark blue circles under her eyes that she'd already lost sleep. And rarely was Deena so short with her, interrupting her and sending her on menial errands. Something was bothering her deeply, that much was obvious.

She seemed to catch herself, though, and gave Maralei an apologetic smile. "I know. I trust you to smooth any ruffled feathers," she said. "Please convey my apologies, and let them know I have an emergency to take care of. I am not to be disturbed, even for the Shadow Broker himself."

Maralei sighed. There was no arguing with her when she was in a mood like this. "Yes, ma'am. I'll go get you that tea."

"And get yourself something, too. My treat. We have a long day ahead of us."

As Maralei threaded her way through the omnipresent crowds of the Nos Astra trading floor, she grumbled to herself. Deena's personal crusades were all well and good, but it was Maralei who had to take the heat from slighted clients. Rich, entitled snobs, the lot of them, who weren't used to being told to wait. They wouldn't care what kind of "emergency" Deena was dealing with. Their own needs took ultimate priority, and they couldn't see far enough past the ends of their own noses to understand why Deena didn't feel the same.

And when they couldn't get through to her to complain, they heaped their abuse on Maralei. As if she was anything but the messenger. As if she wasn't just Deena's employee, doing as she was told. But none of that mattered to them.

Worse, it didn't seem to matter to Deena. She was perfectly content to deliver good news herself, but any time her communications might anger someone, she foisted it on Maralei. Because Goddess forbid she should disappoint her _own_ clients.

Maralei shook her head. That was unfair. It was her job to handle such communications. It allowed Deena to concentrate on her work—and even if there were delays, she always came through in the end.

It was a small comfort when she was getting sneered at, screamed at, and even threatened, but in all honesty, she was used to it by now.

By the time she reached Veylana's—the only shop in walking distance of the office that sold the exotic teas Deena liked—her frustration had ebbed back to her usual numb resignation. She ordered a cup of Thessian _kirene,_ hot and bracing, for herself, then took a moment to peruse the menu for something for Deena.

Ever since she'd bonded with that human, Deena had become something of a Terraphile, developing a taste for all things from Earth. That narrowed the list a bit: imports from halfway across the galaxy were limited at small businesses like this. She read down the list of nigh-unpronounceable names— _oolong, Darjeeling, chamomile, Earl Grey—_ before finally settling on something called _peppermint,_ a brew that smelled at once floral and spicy and green, and made Maralei a bit lightheaded. She didn't know how Deena could stand the stuff, but it was one of her favorites.

When she got back to the office with their drinks, she found Deena already engrossed in her work, several datapads arrayed in front of her as she typed furiously at her computer. So absorbed was she that she barely acknowledged Maralei at all.

Maralei set the credit chit and the steaming, strange-smelling cup on the only clear spot on Deena's desk, then retreated to her own with her _kirene._ Missed calls and angry messages flashed at her insistently from her computer screen. She took a sip of her tea and grimaced at the unexpected bitterness—in her preoccupied state, she must have forgotten to ask for sweetener.

_Damn it. Just what I needed today._

Letting out a frustrated hiss, she began to compose a generic email she could send to most of Deena's waiting clients. _Ms. T'Neri has received your request and will contact you shortly. Please allow me to convey her apologies for the delay; an emergency has arisen, and she will attend to your needs as soon as it is resolved. Thank you for your patience in this matter._

It was a simple matter to customize each note with names and pertinent details, and before long, the entire list had been contacted. Of course, it was likely to be only minutes before the indignant replies started pouring in, as they all inevitably insisted that their "emergencies" were more important. But those, she would deal with as they came.

She sipped at her tea again, then set the cup down, shaking her head in disgust. It wasn't just unsweetened. The much-lauded Veylana had somehow managed to screw up a simple cup of _kirene._ Or maybe she'd just gotten a bad shipment—that was probably more likely. In any case, it tasted decidedly off. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Bitter, yes, but unsweetened _kirene_ was supposed to be bitter. It was just… the wrong kind of bitter, like it had gone bad. Could tea go bad? She wasn't sure. Her stomach lurched, and she gagged.

Deena looked up at the sound, her eyes wide. "Maralei? Are you all right?"

Maralei swallowed hard and shook her head. She stood and tried to make a break for the restroom, but her legs gave out immediately. She tried to catch herself on her desk, but succeeded only in scattering datapads and spilling that awful _kirene_ everywhere before she crashed to the floor in a dizzy, trembling heap. The last thing she heard before passing out was Deena's frantic voice, calling for help.

* * *

Night had fallen, the city lights enveloping uptown Nos Astra in a cool purple glow, by the time Deena returned to her office. She had stayed at the hospital until they'd gotten Maralei stabilized, then checked on Thane and Cecilia before coming back to see what else she could dig up on Ceris.

Maralei had been poisoned, the doctor said. Someone had laced her tea with a chemical found in insect sprays. She was lucky to be alive.

The crime scene holotape was gone from the door—the police had finished with it hours ago. _Thank the Goddess for small favors._ But when she turned the lights on and surveyed the scene, her heart sank. Maralei's spilled _kirene_ was drying to a sticky orange puddle on her desk. Datapads lay where they'd fallen, scattered haphazardly on the floor. The chair was overturned, and her computer was gone—taken into evidence, most likely. Some hapless tech was undoubtedly trying to crack into it right now, to see if she could find any clue as to who might be after Maralei. But Deena had secured the system herself, and she'd had Cecilia test it. Nobody was getting in.

Deena knelt to start cleaning up.

All of a sudden, though, it was too much. She sat back on her heels and buried her face in her hands, breathing in deep, shuddering gasps as she struggled not to break down in tears. Ceris was behind this. She had to be. She'd been a step ahead of Deena for days.

This was starting to feel personal. First Thane, now Maralei—she began to wonder what Ceris was after. What did she want from Deena? Or was this only because she was helping Thane?

A knock at the door startled her out of her ruminations. She climbed to her feet, straightened her dress, and wiped the unshed tears from her eyes. When she felt she looked sufficiently composed, she opened the door and found herself face-to-face with a familiar but unwelcome visitor.

"Deena T'Neri." The asari on the other side flashed her badge unnecessarily. "We meet again. May I come in?"

"Of course," Deena said coolly. "Please forgive the mess; I've only just returned from the hospital. I presume you're here to talk about Maralei."

"You presume correctly." Detective Anaya Selenis stepped past her and walked slowly across the room, stopping at the far end and turning back to face Deena, leaning a hip on her desk. The floor-to-ceiling window framed her against a backdrop of city and stars. She probably thought she cut a dramatic and imposing figure, standing there with her arms folded like that.

Deena fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Anaya's sharp eyes swept the room, systematically cataloguing every detail. "You've checked in with your bondmate, I hope," she said.

Deena bristled. "And what business it that of yours?" she snapped. "What are you trying to say?"

"Only that, lately, getting close to you seems to be dangerous. First it was your drell friend—what's his name?"

Oh, she knew his name—or at least, the alias he was using for this mission—perfectly well. But Deena played along anyway. "Tannor."

"Uh-huh, right," Anaya drawled, sounding unconvinced. _"Tannor._ And now your secretary. Not much in common, those two." She shrugged, falsely casual. "Except for you."

"Oh?" Deena raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Am I a suspect now, Anaya? You think you finally have something you can pin on me? You've only been trying for decades."

"That depends." Anaya straightened and looked Deena squarely in the eyes. "Give me your computer. And all the access codes. If you're innocent, you have nothing to worry about."

A cold, hard knot of anger burned in the pit of Deena's stomach, and a headache roared to life behind her eyes. "You know I can't do that. All of my clients' information is there; I won't let you compromise them." She gritted her teeth. "And I will _not_ let you use what happened to Maralei as an excuse to continue your vindictive crusade."

Anaya closed the distance between them in three long strides, until her face was inches from Deena's. "Understand this, T'Neri. Just because I don't have any admissible evidence—yet—doesn't mean I don't know what you are and what you do. The information you trade goes to pirates, mercenaries, smugglers." Her eyes narrowed. "Assassins."

Deena held her gaze calmly, giving nothing away, even as her heart pounded. How much did Anaya know? "I'm a businesswoman. I deal with anyone who pays."

"And one day," Anaya continued as if Deena hadn't spoken, "you'll slip up. And I will be there when you fall."

Deena refused to let Anaya intimidate her. Glaring back into her eyes, she bit out, "Come back with a court order."

* * *

Thane was gently awakened by a hand snaking its way, feather-light, around his waist. Irikah pulled herself to him, pressing her body against his back, her scales warm and smooth on his. He hummed contentedly as she peppered his shoulder with kisses and nipped playfully at his frills, sending little shocks of pleasure shivering through his core until he burned with desire.

He turned and gathered her into his arms, one hand in the curve of her back, the other cradling her head. He marveled, as he always did, at how well they fit together. How she melted into him, and he into her, as though they were two halves of one being. When he bent his head to kiss her, though he couldn't see her in the darkness, his lips found hers unerringly. Her fingers traced slow spiral patterns down his spine, trailing fire in their wake.

He pulled her leg up over his hip, sliding his hand up her thigh to her backside and squeezing gently. She moaned into his mouth, then broke the kiss to gasp for air as her back arched. Thane buried his face in the curve of her neck, planting more kisses in the soft, pleated skin of her throat and reveling in the little gasps and shudders he elicited from her.

He shifted his weight, intending to roll her onto her back, but she pushed against him. Before he quite knew what had happened, he found himself staring up at the faint suggestion of movement in the blackness that he knew to be her. She straddled him, a throaty chuckle escaping her at having taken him by surprise.

She reached down to guide him into her, her fingers cool, her touch electric. And then the soft, wet warmth of her became his whole universe as she set a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Still blind in the darkness, he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to feeling. His hands traced the familiar curves of her body, finding with practiced ease all the places that made her shiver and moan. Her movements grew faster and less graceful, and a red heat coiled inside him as they hurtled together toward the edge.

She came first, crying out in a voice that was not her own as she spasmed around him, and he knew he wasn't far behind. He opened his eyes…

…and he could see. Dim yellow light fell listlessly over them, illuminating not Irikah's golden scales, but Ceris's sapphire skin. Her cries of ecstasy devolved into hysterical laughter. Thane found himself lying not on the bed he shared with his wife, but on a cold, concrete floor. He tried to throw her off, but her eyes, black and glittering, held him immobile as she ground against him. She had his dagger in her hand.

There was no stopping it. His orgasm crashed over him in an icy wave, and he, too, cried out, as Ceris brought the knife plunging down into his—

Thane jerked awake with a gasp, trembling and nauseated, his wound throbbing dully. As the grasping fingers of sleep slipped away, he took a moment to remember where he was, to ground himself in the present and the real.

Darkness, but not the deep, consuming void of his nightmare. Only nighttime. A suffuse purple glow seeped through the blinds covering the room's large windows: the light of the sleepless city. The tang of ozone in the air was only dream and memory; what was real was the faint scent of wax and incense that permeated the whole of Deena's home. He lay not on a cold, concrete floor, but in a bed that was not his own. His hands fisted in the blanket as he concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply.

He was alone. No warm fingers trailed down his spine, sparking with biotic energy. No black eyes stared into his, filling his vision with void and stars. No hot breath caressed his frills. And the echo of hysterical laughter was only the illusion of a memory.

Thane sat up and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, gritting his teeth as he forced the nightmare back with a supreme effort of will. This just piled insult upon injury—in the absence of real memory, his traitorous mind instead supplied imagination, running away on flights of paranoid fancy rather than accept that it could not remember.

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand: _0238._ He had slept for perhaps three hours, not nearly enough. But he would sleep no more tonight.

Instead, he got out of bed, gathered up some clean clothes, and crept silently down the hall to the bathroom. He felt cold and dirty and… violated, somehow. Ashamed. _It was nothing but a dream,_ he insisted to himself. But the urge to scrub the residue of the nightmare from his scales was powerful, and he was not feeling especially inclined to fight it. It itched. It crawled.

_It's not real._

He ran the shower hot, so hot the water burned. The steam choked him, smothered him, crushing the air from his lungs as though an elcor sat on his chest. But he didn't care. Attention spent on breathing was not tempted to wander elsewhere.

For a long time, he stood there, head bowed, bracing himself with one hand on the wall, shivering even as the small bathroom grew stiflingly warm. The water scalded his scales and heated his skin, but it could not seem to thaw whatever it was inside him that had frozen over.

This was ridiculous. He was behaving like a frightened child. He'd had a bad dream, that was all, and it ill-behooved him to allow it to affect him like this. Shaking his head in disgust, he finally shut off the water, dried himself, and dressed.

He was still moving stiffly. His wound was healing rapidly, but it would be another week before he had full range of motion, and perhaps two more before he was anywhere near fighting shape again. This wasn't the first time he'd been seriously injured on the job—it was an occupational hazard—but this time, he was impatient. He'd promised Irikah he would be home today. He'd promised Kolyat. And once again, he was breaking that promise. When, he wondered despairingly, had his word ceased to mean anything?

Thane scowled at himself in the steam-fogged mirror. Enough self-pity. He needed to pull himself together and focus on his mission. As soon as Ceris was dead, he could go home.

And maybe he could leave the nightmares behind.


	4. Deliver Us From Evil

"It is good to see you, Daughter."

Irikah swallowed hard as her father kissed her forehead in greeting. "And you, Father. Thank you for coming." She took a deep breath and braced herself for what she knew would come next. "I have a favor to ask of you."

He smiled warmly at her. "Anything, _ashi."_

The term of endearment settled in her heart like a stone. Though he was a good and loving parent, Yari Saavas had a well-earned reputation in the community for being quick-tempered. And few things angered him more quickly than any perceived slight or injury to his beloved daughters. What she was about to ask was certain to set him off. "For Kolyat's ceremony today… I need you to stand in for his father."

"I see." As she had expected, his face darkened, and his voice turned cold. "And where is your husband, on this of all days?"

Though his anger was not directed at her, it took Irikah an effort of will to keep from shivering from the chill of it. His dislike of Thane felt personal to her, as though he were deliberately trying to drive a wedge between them. Oh, she knew he was only trying to look out for her, to protect her from pain. But he failed to understand that his attacks on the man she loved, the man she'd chosen to spend her life with, the father of her son, caused her more pain than Thane's long absences ever had.

Gritting her teeth, she tucked her hands behind her back. It was a mannerism she'd picked up from Thane, which made it a subtle, private act of defiance that Father almost certainly would not pick up on. Perhaps paradoxically, she also found it helpful in forcing herself to remain appropriately deferential. "Thane is away on business, Father," she said. "He works very hard to support our family."

"He is always 'away on business,'" her father all but sneered. "I am disappointed that he could not find the time to come home for Kolyat's _brela."_

 _You say that as if I am not._ "It is regrettable that his work has caused him to be delayed," she replied stiffly, "but due to the nature of his work, that is often beyond his control." Before she could think better of it, she added, "We have had this discussion many times before, Father."

Father raised his brow ridge in surprise at her uncharacteristic impertinence, but his tone became gentle. "And yet you do not heed my advice. Nothing will change of its own accord. _He_ will not change, unless _you_ do something."

"You want me to give him an ultimatum," she said. "You've told me this before."

"I just don't want to see you hurt, _ashi,"_ he replied. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she had to fight the urge to shrug it off. "I do not trust him. He is _dresa'ar._ And from where I stand, it looks as though he is deserting you, as well."

Why must he refuse to understand? Irikah forced back the tears that pricked at her eyes. Her back ached, and she suddenly realized how rigid her posture had become. "He is not deserting me, Father. He is doing this _for_ me. And for Kolyat. And for the last time," she growled, giving up all pretense of filial piety, "it was _I_ who convinced Thane to leave the Compact. He did that for me, too. Everything he has done since then, he has done _because he loves me."_

Her father stared sternly into her eyes, searching. "And you love him?"

Irikah and Thane had been married nearly nine years. That Father even felt the need to ask this hit her like a sledgehammer, knocking the breath from her lungs, and she couldn't answer. The tears finally spilled over.

Father's gaze softened, and he gathered her into his arms. "Irikah, _ashi,"_ he whispered. "Look at what he's done to you."

She wanted to push him away. She wanted to scream, to shout at him that _he_ had done this to her, not Thane. But they were standing in the atrium of the temple, and Kolyat waited inside with the priests. She didn't want to cause a scene on what was supposed to be a special day. So instead, she buried her face in her father's shoulder until she could get a hold of herself. And she let him think she wept tears of loneliness, rather than anger.

* * *

The _brela_ ceremony was a rite of passage for drell children of the Old Faith, and focused heavily on the role of family. The ritual was an ancient one, dating back to the dawn of history on Rakhana. As such, it was a little bit old-fashioned, citing outmoded gender roles and assuming the child involved had both a biological mother and father present. Over the centuries, and especially since the drell had come to Kahje, it had been adapted with variants and contingencies to account for different kinds of families: adoptions, single parents, same-sex parents, and so forth. All of which was to say that the priests were prepared to conduct the ceremony with Kolyat's grandfather standing in for Thane, if surprised at the short notice.

Kolyat, however, was not. As she entered the sanctuary alongside her father, Irikah's heart broke to see her son's face fall. He still had a shred of a child's innocent faith: though he had long ago resigned himself to seeing his father only infrequently, he had remained certain that Thane would be there when it mattered. For the important things. But what Irikah was witnessing now was that last scrap of innocence being torn away.

As she watched, the excitement faded from his eyes. His shoulders slumped, his lower lip trembled, and his little hands curled into fists at his sides. He opened his mouth to say something, but Irikah shook her head once, sharply: _no._

And just like that, he shut down. His jaw clenched, his back straightened, and his eyes stared stonily ahead. A familiar mask settled over his face: the same mask Thane wore whenever she asked about his work. The mask that pretended to be calm, but hid a turmoil that may never find a voice. The mask that Kolyat was far too young to have to wear.

In that moment, he looked very much like his father.

With everyone in place, the ceremony began. Though she tried for Kolyat's sake to remain focused on the proceedings, Irikah found herself glancing toward the doors every so often, half expecting Thane to come through them at any moment and take his proper place. But they remained stubbornly shut.

All at once, she could feel every uncounted, interminable light-year between them. She had no idea where Thane had gone on his mission, of course, but some part of her could sense the distance. It was an emptiness inside her, as cold and dark as the reaches of interstellar space, and it threatened to consume her utterly. Only for Kolyat's sake did she fight it.

Father's voice echoed in her mind: _Look at what he's done to you._ Less than a decade ago, she had been happily single, supporting herself with a job she enjoyed, needing no one. Fulfilled and secure. But all that had changed, in a sense, when she'd met Thane. The more time they'd spent together, the more his presence had started to feel like home. Even after the heady rush of new romance had worn off, she had found that they complemented each other, shoring up each other's weaknesses and bolstering each other's strengths. Together, she felt they could take on the world.

And every time he left, she felt his absence more keenly. The fundamental difference between her perspective and Father's, she thought, was that she didn't necessarily think this was a bad thing. Thane was doing what he had to, to support his family. And when he was away, she missed him—it was only natural. Yes, she was disappointed that he couldn't be here today. But sometimes, sacrifices had to be made.

" _Semme Krios."_

Irikah snapped out of her reverie at the priest's voice, calling to her for what was clearly not the first time. Her frills flushed hot with embarrassment at Father's raised brow ridge and Kolyat's baleful glare. The murmurings of her family and friends assembled in congregation seemed suddenly thunderous—or maybe that was just the roaring of her pulse in her ears. "My apologies," she mumbled.

The priest frowned, and repeated the ritual questioning. "Who is this child you bring before the Gods?"

"Kolyat Krios, son of Irikah and of Thane," she replied.

"And who presents him?"

"I, his mother."

"And I, his grandfather." Father stared at Irikah as he spoke. She avoided his gaze. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she could feel judgement in it.

"And what is it you ask of the Gods on this day?"

She gave the prescribed answer. "We wish to give thanks to Arashu for his life and health, and to ask Her blessing that he may live long in happiness and peace."

As the priest began the prayer of invocation, Irikah closed her eyes and let the sonorous chant wash over her. She remembered the words, the rhythm, the melody from her own _brela,_ and those of her younger relatives. And the multi-colored light streaming in through the stained-glass windows, the warmth of the Eternal Flame on the altar, the smoky-sweet smell of incense—all these trappings and trimmings of faith helped to ground her, to remind her of why she was here, and what was important.

And what was important was Kolyat. She could not allow her fears and insecurities to interfere with his needs. He deserved better than that. She needed to be fully present with him, not wallowing in _tu-fira_ feeling sorry for herself.

It would take strength, and it would take faith. And she had both in abundance.

She had to.

* * *

"Hello, Cece." Deena dropped her briefcase just inside the door and swept her bondmate into her arms. "I missed you today."

Cecilia laughed and shook her head. "You say that every day."

"That's because it's true, my love." Deena kissed Cecilia's forehead, lingering to breathe in the scent of her hair. It smelled of flowers, and comfort, and home. She ran her fingers through the silky strands, allowing herself to be soothed by their softness and warmth.

Goddess, it had been a long day, and twice as difficult without Maralei to rely on. She had diverted all of her time and resources to the pursuit of Aselda Ceris, leaving other work to pile up. People were getting angry—she would likely lose a few clients before all this was over—but she didn't especially care.

What bothered her was that her searches were coming up empty. Ceris seemed to be a master at covering her tracks, managing somehow to move around the city without leaving a trace. It was as if she were sweeping away her footprints behind her. She was a ghost.

Finally, Deena had given in to the frustration and gone home for the night. She would look with fresh eyes in the morning. In the meantime, she did her best to put those difficulties from her mind.

She released Cecilia and smiled at her—though she couldn't see it, she would hear it in her voice. "How are you doing? How is Thane?"

Cecilia shrugged. "I'm fine. But Thane, well…" She gestured toward the guest room, with the door shut tight and the lock glowing amber. "He's been in there all day. To be honest, I'm a little worried."

"I'll go talk to him."

But Cecilia caught her arm as she passed. "I wouldn't interrupt if I were you, Dee. He's been rather…" She grimaced. "Testy."

"Wouldn't you be?" Deena countered. She gently disengaged Cecilia's hand from her elbow and kissed her fingers. "I'll just be a minute."

Deena crossed the room to knock softly on the guest room door. "Thane?" she called. "May I come in?"

There was no answer from within, but the lock turned green. She took that as an invitation, and entered.

She and Cecilia rarely entertained visitors overnight, so the guest room was what her bondmate described as "Spartan," comfortably but sparsely appointed with only a bed, a dresser, and a desk and chair. It was at the desk that she found Thane, rising wearily to his feet to greet her. "Deena. Do you need something?"

"I just wanted to talk to you, if that's okay," said Deena. She frowned as she studied him, taking in the tightness around his eyes, the slump of his shoulders, and the tense set of his jaw. "Are you all right?"

Thane's brow knotted, and he hesitated. "I… no," he admitted. "Since leaving the hospital, I have spent most of my time in meditation, attempting to recover my missing memories. But I have made no progress." He began to pace back and forth. "Everything from leaving Kahje to waking up in the warehouse remains utterly blank. It's as though the memories are… sealed off, somehow. And every time I attempt to push past the barrier, my mind recoils into fantasy and nightmare."

"That must be frustrating," Deena replied. "I can't really imagine how unsettling this must be for you. But maybe you just need to give it time. Concentrate on the job for right now. The memories might come back on their own."

But Thane only shook his head. "I have tried." He stopped his pacing, leaning heavily on the desk with both hands flat on the surface, shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow. "But no matter how determinedly I focus on the task at hand, I still find myself worrying at the edges of that void, as if I can find some thread to pull that will unravel the veil. It haunts my dreams as well as my waking hours. It has become an obsession."

A thick, heavy silence fell between them. Deena had considered this problem as well, and an idea had presented itself almost immediately. She wasn't sure how he would take it, but it was the only solution she could think of.

"Perhaps…" Still, Deena hesitated, fidgeting. What she was about to suggest could easily be taken the wrong way. She could only hope Thane would understand how she intended it and not jump to any unseemly conclusions. The last thing she wanted was to damage their friendship, or cause him any more distress.

But if it came down to their friendship or his sanity, she knew which to choose, without question. "Perhaps I can be of help," she said.

Thane froze. Very slowly, he straightened and raised his eyes to hers. His voice was flat and icy as he asked, "What, _precisely_ , are you proposing?"

Clearly, he knew exactly what she was proposing. He just wanted her to say it out loud.

Fine, then. Deena lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. "A meld," she said firmly. "If you allow me to join my consciousness to yours, I may be able to help you recover your missing memories."

"No."

His answer came so quickly, so sharply, and so unequivocally that Deena was momentarily taken aback. He seemed to be taking her suggestion exactly how she had hoped he wouldn't. Evidently, she didn't know him as well as she thought. She gritted her teeth. "Will you at least hear me out before you dismiss me?" she bit out, perhaps more harshly than she'd intended.

Thane raised his eyebrow ridge and tucked his hands behind his back. He said nothing.

Deena took that as acquiescence and forged ahead. "I know it would be an intimacy far beyond anything we've shared in the past," she said, forcing the irritation from her voice so the words came out gently. "But I had hoped you'd have come to trust me enough by now to know that I would never harm you or take advantage of you. In any way. I only want to help."

His rigid posture relaxed not a fraction, but he lowered his eyes. "Of course," he said softly. "My apologies. I did not intend to imply that… it's only because there is…" He coughed once as he stumbled uncharacteristically over his words. "There is… information that I cannot share with anyone," he admitted. "Information that could put people in danger. And it could put you in danger, if you knew. I cannot risk anyone else finding out."

 _Goddess. He's terrified._ Deena reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, but stopped when he flinched away, almost imperceptibly. Withdrawing, she wrung her hands nervously instead. She had never seen him like this before.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her own racing heart, willing her restless hands still. "Thane, I'm an information broker. A very, very good one," she said. "Managing information, keeping secrets—it's what I do, and I do it well. Anything I learn, I have the resources to bury it so deep it can never be found. And besides." She paused until Thane made eye contact with her again. "You are my _friend_ , Thane. Whatever I find in the meld, I swear to keep in the strictest confidence."

Thane stared at her for a moment, his dark eyes wide and uncertain, and for a moment Deena thought he might agree to try. Then he blinked and shook his head. "No." He walked away from her, to the window, to focus on the Nos Astra skyline rather than her face. "I understand what you're trying to do, and I appreciate your concern. But there must be some other way."

"You said it yourself, Thane. You've exhausted all other avenues." Deena shrugged helplessly. "Maybe all it'll take is time, I don't know. I won't push you on this. But know that the offer still stands if you change your mind."

She turned to leave.

"Deena… wait."

She stopped and looked back at him. He still stood by the window, but his head was bowed.

"Are you certain this will work?" he asked. The tone of hollow resignation in his voice made the words seem to drop onto the carpet between them. "What are the risks if it should fail?"

Deena hesitated. She'd never melded with a drell before, especially not with the express purpose of exploring his memories. There was no telling what kinds of flashbacks she might trigger, how intense they would be, or how much of them she would share. But there was little chance she would actually harm him by trying. "I can promise nothing," she admitted, "but the risks are minimal. I may see things you prefer remained private, that's all."

"I see." Thane was silent for a long, thoughtful moment, then his shoulders sagged and he sighed. "Very well. We will try." He straightened and turned to face her. "What do you need me to do?"

"Come, sit." She gestured for him to follow her, and they sat on the bed, angled to face each other. Deena reached out to rest her fingertips gently on either side of his face—it wasn't necessary for the meld, but it helped her concentrate. "Go back to the last thing you remember before waking up in Nos Astra."

Thane tensed, closing his eyes as he fought to control his breathing.

"Relax, Thane," she said soothingly. "Look at me."

He opened his eyes, and in the slanting light of the sunset, she could see the emerald irises behind his ocular scales. He seemed suddenly so terribly young and vulnerable.

"It's all right," she murmured, speaking as she might to a child. "You have nothing to fear from me. Now, open your mind. Focus. _Embrace eternity!"_


	5. Labyrinth

A meld with a lover was a gentle thing. It was an embrace, warm and comforting and undemanding. Each one yielding to the other. Minds exploring each other the way hands and mouths explored bodies, roving together over the familiar landscapes of each other for the sheer pleasure and joy of it. And each mind came away marked, changed forever by the profound depth of understanding and love.

A forced meld, on the other hand, was something else entirely. It was an assault, a rape, a violation of the worst kind. A disciplined mind might be able to resist for a short time, but a powerful intruder could blast through most defenses, including anything a non-asari might throw at her. She could run roughshod over her victim's psyche, sowing terror and destruction in her wake, stealing secrets nearly unchallenged. The victim's mind could be shattered. And both were invariably left with deep, angry scars.

(Deena had seen those scars before. Cecilia refused to discuss them.)

This meld was different from either of those, more akin to a doctor performing an examination. Deena did her best to tread lightly, determined not to intrude anywhere that wasn't strictly necessary. But she was not a doctor, and anyway as diagnostic tools went, the meld was imprecise by nature. There would be no way to avoid stumbling onto some very private things, indeed. Five hundred years of practice had taught her some measure of control, but never before had she tried to use it like this. She had no idea if she could restore Thane's memories or not, but perhaps she could at least figure out why they were missing.

She found the hole in his memory easily: a ragged, gaping void like that would have been difficult to miss. It was as though someone had reached into his mind and torn out a huge swath of experiences, with no regard for the damage left behind. Thane flinched but did not protest as she probed the edges—her explorations were causing him physical pain, but he only steeled himself to endure.

She backed off anyway. There was nothing left to reconstruct.

Deena turned her attention out from the void, her heart in her throat. As she'd begun to suspect she would, she found jagged lines of pain and fear radiating from it, poisoning every memory they touched with humiliation and anger: the all-too-familiar scars of a mind brutally attacked. An asari had done this to him, had forced herself upon him and ravaged him. And given the timing, that asari could only be Aselda Ceris.

Thane was less surprised by this than Deena would have thought. It made a twisted kind of sense to him—which Deena immediately understood as the memory of a nightmare flashed across the meld, brief images of an intimate moment turning to horror, before he shut it down. Redoubled determination rippled back to her; what had once been merely a contract had now turned personal.

He was handling the revelation with remarkable equanimity, considering. Deena, however, could feel her own sickened outrage blazing white-hot through the meld, a wildfire of fury that blinded her and set his heart racing. How _dare_ she! A meld was supposed to be an expression of _trust,_ of mutual vulnerability and intimacy! To force that vulnerability on someone without his consent was absolutely unforgivable. To then use it to invade his innermost thoughts and rend them asunder like a varren with a piece of meat… that was downright _unthinkable._

The intensity of her rage nearly shook her out of the meld, and Deena had to force herself to calm down and think rationally. None of the intel she'd gathered on Ceris suggested she engaged in cruelty for cruelty's sake. She always had a purpose, however twisted, to her crimes. It was clear not that she had used the meld to burn out Thane's memories of their encounter, but why? What was she hiding?

Once she got a hold of herself, Deena explored along the scars, gently and carefully, tracing the damage Ceris's rampage had caused. The memories she'd rifled through seemed to center around one person—no, two people. A woman and a young boy: Thane's wife and son. He had a family!

Deena clamped down hard on her emotions, trying and failing to keep her shock from reverberating through the meld like a thunderclap. Fear and directionless anger echoed back to her, and the particular kind of panic that comes of something meticulously and precariously constructed beginning to crumble. So this was the secret he guarded so fiercely; this was why he was so anxious to go home. He lived in constant terror that someone would connect his family to his work and bring them harm.

It stung a little that he hadn't felt he could trust her with this, but she understood why he'd thought it necessary. _Do not be afraid,_ she told him. _I can help you keep them safe._

He relaxed, but only slightly.

But what did Thane's wife and son have to do with the memories that were missing? Perhaps nothing—perhaps everything. There was only one way to find out. _I'm sorry. This may be… unpleasant._

Deena braced herself, and dove deeper.

Images began to flash before her. Memories, worries, thoughts, dreams. And through it all, the theme upon which all the harmonies and discords of his life were composed, there she was. Irikah, of the golden scales and sunset-colored eyes. Irikah, whose strength and patience and love had become his foundation, his shelter, his anchor. He loved her with a ferocity that took Deena by surprise.

 _Forgive me._ It was difficult to determine from which of them the thought had come, or whose mercy was being asked.

But the images were tainted and distorted by the associations the forced meld had forged. Genuine memories broke off and twisted into dark imaginings; dreams collapsed into nightmares. And those, too, had a face. A cruel, toothy smile, a high-pitched laugh, and eyes the pale gray of a winter sky.

Horror broke over the meld like a wave crashing upon the shore. Ceris knew. Oh, Goddess, _she knew about his family._

* * *

So this was it, then. This was how it all ended: quietly, while his back was turned.

The moment Deena released him, Thane shot to his feet and stumbled back until he hit the wall. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, sinking slowly in icy black water that froze the air from his lungs and the fight from his limbs. It was already too late. There was nothing he could do.

There was not a single doubt in his mind that Ceris had gone directly to Kahje after leaving him bewildered and bleeding on the warehouse floor. He had assumed she'd left him for dead, but he realized now that her intentions had been far worse. If she'd wanted to kill him, she could have. But after her ravishment of his innermost being, she knew exactly how best to destroy him.

And she'd had nearly a week to do so. More than enough time.

_A kiss that tastes of longing and loneliness. Dark eyes full of disappointment and reproach._

"Thane? Thane, are you all right? Please, talk to me!"

He suddenly realized Deena had been calling to him for some time, and opened his eyes, though he hadn't been aware he'd closed them. He couldn't speak, couldn't feel. He was completely hollowed out, a shell made of ice and glass, falling slowly through the void. Empty and numb.

Deena reached out and took his hands. Hers were warm and soft, her grip firm. It helped to ground him, to pull him out of his shock, but also threatened to break through the glass shell that held oceans of grief at bay. He stared at them, still struggling to perceive them as real.

"Thane!"

He raised his eyes to hers, seizing on the caring and worry in her gaze like a lifeline. He swallowed hard. "I need to speak to Irikah," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "Immediately." Attempting to reach her would only confirm what he already knew, he was certain, but he still felt compelled to try.

"Of course," said Deena without hesitation. "I have the most secure line in Nos Astra. Cecilia set it up herself—it's untraceable. Come with me."

She called to her bondmate as she gathered her things: skycar keys, passcard, and an OSD she retrieved from a locked drawer. "Cece, I'm taking Thane back to the office," she said, her tone clipped and businesslike. "We'll be home soon."

Cecilia raised her eyebrows and turned from her computer toward the sound of Deena's voice. "Does this mean you have a lead on Ceris?"

Rather than answer her, Deena glanced back at Thane.

"I hope not," was all he could bring himself to say.

Cecilia, perhaps wisely, did not pry.

At the door, Deena paused, just for an instant, then turned back. She crossed the room to where Cecilia sat and pulled her into her arms, smothering her startled yelp with an ardent kiss. "Be safe," she whispered, and swept out the door before Cecilia could respond.

Though Deena pushed her skycar faster than Thane would have dared, weaving in and out of traffic at alarming speeds, the journey from her apartment building to the trading floor seemed interminable. The sensation of drowning never went away. But worse yet, there was still that glimmer of hope, a tiny spark that hadn't yet been extinguished: just enough to illuminate in sharp relief what he knew to be the terrible truth.

Irikah and Kolyat were dead.

He finally allowed the thought to articulate in his mind, stark and merciless. He had failed them. They had trusted him to keep them safe. Irikah had trusted him. And now she and Kolyat had paid the price for his weakness.

Well, he would be weak no longer. Grief began to harden into calculating rage, the ocean freezing solid in the endless, sunless night. Ceris would pay for this. He would hunt her to the ends of the galaxy if necessary, and when he found her, she would not live to see another dawn.

_I swear to Amonkira._

But still he found he couldn't let go of that spark, that nagging uncertainty that was driving him to attempt communication. Without any actual proof of their deaths, some part of him simply refused to accept the idea. He did everything he could to ignore that spark. If he couldn't let it go now, then it would hurt that much more when it was finally doused.

And so, once Deena unlocked her office, inserted the OSD into her computer, and setoff the comm link, he approached the terminal like a condemned man facing execution: unhurried, afraid, but taking some small comfort in knowing it would all be over very soon.

He sat in the chair behind Deena's desk and initiated the call.

The line rang once. The sound scraped at his nerves, the headsman sharpening his axe.

Twice. His breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding.

Three times. He blinked back tears. _No. Please, it isn't true._

Four. _Please, for the love of Arashu, pick up!_

Before it could ring a fifth time, the screen lit up, and there she was. Bleary-eyed and sleepy, dressed only in a rumpled nightgown, scowling at being awakened in the middle of the night—she had never looked so beautiful as she did in that moment. Everything else faded into insignificance. The spark he'd tried so hard to dismiss flared to triumphant, blinding life.

Irikah blinked her magnificent sunset-colored eyes and frowned, instantly alert. _"Thane? Is everything all right?"_

Thane let out a long, shaky breath, relief and joy washing over him and leaving him dizzy and trembling. But hard on its heels came a new kind of dread. Irikah and Kolyat were alive, yes, Arashu be praised. But that didn't change the fact that Ceris still knew where to find them. He needed to get them to safety immediately.

"Most secure line in Nos Astra" or no, however, he couldn't bring himself to trust the comm link with details. There was no telling if somebody was listening; contacting Irikah directly was enough of a risk in itself. "There have been… complications, _siha,"_ he said carefully. "I am afraid I'll not be home for some time yet."

Irikah's eyes widened as she took in the implications of his words. _"Complications."_ He could see the apprehension written on her face in the tense set of her jaw, and the way her brow ridge drew up and in. _"Are you hurt?"_

He didn't want to frighten her unnecessarily, but neither would he lie outright. "I am healing," he said. "You needn't worry about me."

She gave him a wan smile. _"I do anyway. You know that."_

"I know."

A strained silence fell between them, stretched taut by time and distance. It trembled, pregnant with words meant but not said, and words said but not meant.

Finally, Irikah said, _"We missed you today. Kolyat missed you."_

Thane winced at the reproach in her voice. Kolyat's _brela_ had been this afternoon—early this morning in Nos Astra _._ With nearly four days missing, his memory was at war with itself, his sense of time thrown off-kilter. Keeping track of the date had become difficult. "How is he?"

" _Disappointed. Sullen. He had convinced himself you would be there, right up until the ceremony began."_ She folded her arms and glared at him. _"He put on a brave face until all of the guests left, but I could see how hurt he was. You have a lot to make up for when you get home."_

"I know. I am sorry I could not be there." The words were utterly inadequate. Picturing his son pretending all was well on a day that should have been joyful, he thought the sudden ache in his chest might stop his heart. "May I speak with him?"

Irikah let out a short huff of incredulous laughter. _"Thane, do you know what time it is here? He went to bed hours ago—completely exhausted, by the way. And he has school tomorrow. No, I'm not going to wake him."_

"I…" Thane bowed his head. "Of course."

Irikah let out a long sigh, her demeanor softening. _"Just come home safe. He needs you. We both do."_ She shook her head as if in disbelief. _"I love you, Thane."_

"And I you, _siha._ Always and forever." He held her gaze steadily, and added, "May the shield of Arashu protect you."

* * *

As the screen went dark, Irikah allowed herself one moment of numb shock. Just one. Then she leapt into action.

 _Shield of Arashu._ It was a code she and Thane had agreed upon years ago when he'd taken up freelancing: the one that meant _you are in danger, find safe haven._ His greatest concern had been, and still was, that one of his contracts might have repercussions for her and Kolyat. It was why he almost never called while he was on a job, and on the rare occasion he did, he was careful to say nothing that might indicate where he was or why. He was determined to protect them at all costs.

He had insisted on setting up a few code phrases for emergencies, and for a long time, she had considered it a little childish, but amusing. It was all very spy-vid and dramatic, like the games of make-believe she had played with Kaedi when they were children. She had never thought they would actually become necessary.

But all that had changed the moment Thane's face had appeared on her screen. He'd looked so haggard and drawn, she'd thought her heart would stop. And then he'd looked at her as though he was seeing a ghost, staring in uncomprehending silence until she'd spoken.

He hadn't said as much, but it was nevertheless abundantly clear: he'd thought she was already dead.

There had been another part to the code, as well. Thane never, ever mentioned over vidcom how long he would be away, especially if he was going to be delayed. It would only make her vulnerable to anyone who might be listening, he'd said. That he'd told her point blank that he wasn't coming home yet meant he was probably already on his way.

And that, in turn, could mean only one thing: he had reason to believe someone was coming for her and Kolyat.

Irikah dressed quickly, then retrieved two suitcases from the back of her closet and began to pack. A week's worth of clothes for should do for each of them. Toiletries, a credit chit, her laptop and Kolyat's. She sent a message to her lab, informing her colleagues that Kolyat had fallen ill and she would be taking some time off to take care of him. She sent a similar message to his school.

She thought she might wake up at any minute. Her eyes would snap open and she'd sit up, her heart pounding, the bedsheets tangled around her body. It would take a moment for her brain to sort out nightmare from reality, and once she caught her breath, she would laugh to herself at how vivid it had seemed. How could she have thought that a situation so absurd was anything but a dream?

But she didn't wake up. This was happening. She had received a coded message, and she was taking Kolyat and running, she knew not from whom.

"What are you doing, Mama?"

Irikah turned to find Kolyat standing just inside the bedroom door, dazed and still half asleep. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, and the other clutched the threadbare, long-eyeless stuffed varren he'd slept with every night since infancy. He'd looked so grown up this afternoon, but right now, all she could see was her baby.

What was she going to tell him? The whole truth would frighten him, but he was smart enough to figure out on his own that something was wrong.

She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Go get dressed, _ashi,"_ she said. "We're going to Aunt Kaedi's house. We'll be staying there for a few days." She hoped he would obey without too many more questions. Perhaps by dawn she could figure out what to say.

But Kolyat would not be distracted. He blinked at her, frowning. "Why?"

"Because…" Irikah hesitated, then crouched to bring herself to his eye level and met his gaze squarely. "Because it's not safe for us to be home right now," she said gently. "Your father is coming, and he's going to take care of it, but for now, we have to leave. I need you to be brave for me, Kolyat. Can you be brave?"

Kolyat's eyes went very wide, but he only nodded solemnly.

Irikah forced a warm smile and patted his shoulder. "Good. Now, get dressed. We're leaving in five minutes."


	6. The Unquiet Dead

It was either the blessing or the curse of living as long as the asari did that one tended toward an almost motherly affection for one's friends of shorter-lived species. Turians, salarians, humans, drell—their short lifespans, measured in mere decades, rendered them incapable of perceiving the universe the same way as one who'd loved for centuries, and would live for centuries more. They lived quickly, carelessly. Even the oldest and wisest among them was adorably naïve by comparison. It was difficult sometimes not to think of them as children to be protected, to be taught and shepherded.

Or perhaps, Deena thought, she only felt that way because she would never have children of her own. After more than two hundred years of trying, with partners of various species, more doctors and specialists than she cared to count, and one devastating and nearly catastrophic miscarriage, she had been forced to accept that painful truth long ago. But it remained a source of bitterness for her that no amount of time seemed to lessen.

Cecilia, thank the Goddess, offered nothing but understanding and compassion. She had never wanted children, herself, but she never dismissed nor made light of Deena's condition. Being with her was a bit of a reprieve in that way—it gave her a reason to stop pushing for a while, to simply enjoy her lover without the stress of trying to start a family. But it would only last so long, perhaps another eighty or ninety years at the most. Then Deena would be alone again, cast adrift in the darkness with nothing to distract her from the empty hole in her heart.

So she found other ways to fill that void. Her maternal yearnings had sublimated into an earnest empathy for the young and vulnerable, and a driving urge to protect and nurture them if she could. Cecilia called it "mother-henning," and while Deena wasn't sure she appreciated being compared to flightless, domesticated fowl, she knew Cecilia always meant it fondly.

Questionable metaphors aside, this was what now had her pacing and fretting outside her office. Something about Thane brought her "mother hen" to the fore in full force, and she made no attempt to fight it. Despite his profession, there was an innocence to him, almost an idealism, that only now seemed on the verge of crumbling, and that she was seized now by an overwhelming desire to protect.

She'd always seen it in him, and she'd felt it all the more keenly when she was in his mind. He was well used to the sight of violence and death, and to being the cause of it, but rarely had it truly touched him. He knew very little of loss. He thought himself invincible—not literally, not consciously, but there had always been that faith that no matter what he faced, he would ultimately emerge victorious. He could not, or would not, consider any other possibility. He had known little else. Even now, he couldn't let go of the last shred of hope.

But never before had he been utterly violated in the way Ceris had done. She had torn through his defenses and his illusions, shattering them cruelly and completely without mercy, and shaken the very foundations of his world. She had stolen his most precious of secrets. And if she truly had followed up on what she'd found—

The door slid softly open behind her, and Deena turned, her heart in her throat.

Thane strode from the office like a man on a mission, his eyes ablaze with deadly purpose. He barely acknowledged her as he passed except to hand her the OSD without breaking stride. Dark thoughts roiled and flashed around him like storm clouds, and Deena recoiled as if they'd strike her like lightning if she stood too close.

She swallowed hard and called after him, fearing the worst. "Thane! What's happened? Were you able to reach her?"

"Yes. They're alive," he replied without stopping or looking back. "I told Irikah to take Kolyat somewhere safe."

"Oh, thank the Goddess." Dizzy with relief, her head swimming, Deena hurried to catch up with him. "Now you can rest and get your strength back, while I—"

"No. I must return to Kahje immediately," he said. "Irikah and Kolyat are still in danger. I need to find Ceris before she finds them."

Deena blinked in shock. "What? Thane, wait!" She reached out and caught his elbow, dragging him to a stop and causing him to hiss sharply in pain as the motion tugged at his wound. She winced in sympathy but refused to let go. "You're still healing," she insisted. "You can't face her on your own!"

He didn't turn around. "We are talking about my _family,_ Deena," he said, his voice rough. "I will do whatever I must to protect them."

He started to pull away, but Deena tightened her grip and stepped in front of him. She drew herself up to her full height and glared down at him like a mother scolding her child. "And if it costs you your life?" she demanded.

But he was unmoved. Returning her glare with defiance, Thane jerked his arm free of her grasp and snarled, "Then so be it."

* * *

Less than an hour later, Deena leaned against the doorframe of her guest room and watched, sick to her stomach and wringing her hands, as Thane packed what few belongings he'd brought with him. He still moved stiffly, favoring his left side, and paused once to press a hand to the wound and mutter imprecations under his breath. Damn it, he was in no shape to fight Ceris, and he knew it. But he would not be swayed—and to be honest, she couldn't really blame him.

Besides, he was intelligent, resourceful, and exceptionally skilled. He had taken on opponents who were larger, stronger, faster, and better armed than he, and won. He'd fought through illness and injury to complete his contracts. He'd been groomed for this from childhood under the Compact, and his fearsome reputation was well earned. At the tender age of twenty-seven, he already had more training and experience than many in his profession retired with.

 _Or died with._ Deena pushed the thought aside.

Still, she worried. This wasn't just a contract anymore, it was personal, and his ordeal had left him emotionally as well as physically compromised. He wasn't thinking straight. If he went in alone, he was only going to get himself killed—which was probably what Ceris was counting on.

But if he had a little help, maybe…

She pushed away from the doorframe, straightening, and spoke before she was even consciously aware she'd made the decision. "I'm coming with you," she announced.

That brought him up short. Thane turned and blinked at her in surprise, then shook his head. "You're—no. Deena, you know perhaps better than anyone else how dangerous she is. I will not—"

"I _do_ know," she interrupted, "and I also know you'll be fighting at half strength, at best. You need backup. That's not just me worrying, that's my tactical assessment."

Thane quirked his brow ridge at her. _"Your_ tactical assessment," he repeated slowly. Skeptically. It might have been insulting, but Deena reminded herself that he had no idea where her past had taken her.

So by way of response, Deena strode across the room to where his gun case lay open on the desk. She picked up the sniper rifle nestled within, extended it to firing position and performed a perfunctory functions check, then collapsed it again. She turned it over in her hands, nodding her approval. "Early Incisor prototype," she said. "Uses thermal clips instead of a standard heat sink. Semi-automatic, fires in three-round bursts. Good anti-shield weapon. Burns through ammo in a hurry, though." She handed it back to him. "Very nice."

"It was a gift from my mentor," Thane snapped, clearly annoyed, as he took it from her. "I was not aware you had weapons experience."

Deena planted one fist on her hip and raised her eyebrows. "What, you think I haven't picked up a few skills in five hundred years? I've only been trading information for about the last century or so. Before that, I was a commando. I served with a sniper unit."

His eyes widened. "I see." Thane studied her as if seeing her in a new light. "I mean no offense, but I find it difficult to imagine you in the military."

"It wasn't a great career choice for me, no." Deena shrugged. She debated for a moment how much to tell him about her reasons for leaving the service, but decided now wasn't the time for a story. "I stuck it out for a few decades, but I eventually just had enough. I've kept up my biotics and weapons proficiencies, though. I can handle myself in a fight." She folded her arms and fixed him with the most commanding stare she could muster. "And what's more, I'm not letting you leave without me. No suicide missions on my watch, Krios."

"I was not—" Thane sighed and gritted his teeth. "Very well. But you'll follow my lead when we're there. I'll not see you killed, either." He returned his rifle to its case, and closed it with a sharp snap that was perhaps slightly louder than it needed to be. "And I would thank you not to touch my weapons again."

* * *

Cecilia jumped when she felt Deena's hand on her shoulder, and touched her ear to turn off the implant that translated her computer's display to audio signals. She'd been hacking into Cyone's extranet domains—a particularly tough nut to crack, given the heavy military presence on the planet—in the hope of pinpointing Ceris's location. It was slow going: not only did she have to hide her activities from Cyone's cybersecurity, she had to be extra careful to erase her footprints behind her so Ceris wouldn't find out what she was doing. But she'd just found something that looked promising when her wife had interrupted her.

"I'm sorry, Cece, I didn't mean to startle you," said Deena. "But we have a lead on where Ceris has gone."

Confused, Cecilia shook her head sharply. "You do? Where?"

"I have reason to believe she is on Kahje," Krios bit out. His voice came from further away than Deena's, by the front door. Impatient to leave. "I am going after her."

Deena squeezed Cecilia's shoulder gently. "And I'm going with him. If all goes well, I should be home in a few days."

Deena's breath warmed Cecilia's face as she leaned down for a kiss, but Cecilia jerked back in her chair, her heart pounding. This was all wrong. She was supposed to be pointing Krios in the wrong direction, yes, but Deena was supposed to stay here, safe, out of harm's way. There was no telling what traps or other nasty surprises Ceris had left alongside whatever clue they'd chased down. She had to stop them. Or at least Deena. "What? Kahje?" she demanded, stalling for time as her mind raced. "Why the hell would Ceris go to Kahje?"

"That is not your concern," snapped Krios. God, his condescension was getting on her last nerve. He'd seemed nice enough at the hospital, but in the day and a half he'd been here, he'd only gotten progressively more aloof and irritable. He refused to talk about what was going on. Cecilia had initially blamed his attitude on his injury, but she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was just an ass. She had no idea what Deena saw in the man.

" _Thane,"_ Deena scolded him.

His only response was stubborn silence.

"Cece, the information we have is… let's call it 'classified,'" Deena said. "It's not a sure thing, but it's the only lead we have. Unless you've found something?"

Cecilia took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and tried to put aside her frustration and think quickly. Maybe she was underestimating Krios. He was supposed to be the best assassin in the galaxy. Even wounded, surely he could take on a crazy pirate bitch like Ceris. And the sooner he did, the sooner Cecilia would be free of her, free to live again.

She could hear in his voice that Krios was wound tight as a bowstring, as eager to take down Ceris as she was. All she had to do was aim him like an arrow and let fly.

"I have," she said before she could think better of it. "And she isn't on Kahje."

Footsteps approached rapidly, long strides coming toward her so quickly she scooted her chair back an inch. "What do you mean, she isn't on Kahje?" Krios's voice came from much closer now, and there was a note of something else under the anger, something Cecilia couldn't quite place but that tugged at her heartstrings nonetheless. "Where else would she have gone?"

Cecilia hesitated for an instant as Ceris's threats echoed in her memory, but she forced them down. If she was going to do this, it had to be now. "I've managed to intercept some communications that place her on Cyone."

And just like that, it had begun. The wheels were in motion, and what happened next was out of her hands. Her head spun, her stomach dropped—she was in free fall, plunging toward either a beginning, or an end.

"What is she doing there?" asked Deena skeptically, breaking through her haze.

Cecilia shrugged and tried to keep her voice from trembling even as her insides turned to water. "The messages were vague. But I was able to pin her down to a compound on the outskirts of Polos. Here, I'll send you the NavPoint." Opening her omni-tool and reactivating her implant, she transmitted the location data to Deena, and after a moment's consideration, to Krios as well. Then she quickly and discreetly wiped all traces of it from her own device.

Both of their omni-tools chimed, _message received,_ and a moment later, Krios inhaled sharply. "I know this place," he said. "Cecilia, are you certain this is correct?"

She pushed aside her irritation at being second-guessed and turned toward him. "As certain as I can be. Why?"

He hesitated for an instant. "I have been there before," he finally replied, his voice very flat and controlled. "It used to belong to a matriarch who espoused some radical and… hmm, problematic views."

"I remember that," said Deena thoughtfully. "Matriarch Erissana. She died about eleven years ago; it made headlines all over asari space when—" She stopped suddenly, and Cecilia could almost hear the click as she made the connection. "Oh, Goddess. That was _you?"_

"It was during my service to the Compact," Krios confirmed. "The Matriarch's teachings were seen as a threat by both the Illuminated Primacy and the Systems Alliance, and so a joint mission was launched to eliminate her."

 _Eliminate._ Cecilia shuddered at the word. Such a polite euphemism for an act of such cold brutality.

"A joint mission? With the Alliance?" She could hear Deena's frown, skeptical and confused. "I'm sure I'd have known if the Alliance had authorized the assassination of a matriarch as influential as Erissana."

"It was not the Alliance as such that authorized the mission," said Krios, "but rather a black ops organization called Cerberus. I do not believe they represented official action by any human government."

"What they represent is plausible deniability," Cecilia replied with a snort. "The only reason the Alliance hasn't rooted them out already is because there are enough people in positions of power who secretly—nor not so secretly—agree with them." She folded her arms. "I'm surprised the Primacy was even willing to do business with them."

"I cannot speak to that," Krios said coolly. "I was not privy to those kinds of details. I merely fulfilled my contract."

Cecilia swallowed hard. The nonchalance, the bland, uncaring disinterest with which he smoothly absolved himself of murder even as he admitted to it, frankly shocked her to the core.

What else should she have expected, though? Krios was an assassin, a contract killer, and by all accounts one of the best in the business. Of course his moral compass wouldn't quite point north. It wasn't really a job you could do with a functioning conscience, was it? Just because he was on the side of the good guys in this little saga didn't mean that would change. But it was one thing to know that, and quite another to come face-to-face with it in your own home. It was unnerving.

Deena, however, seemed entirely unfazed. "So, what's the connection to Ceris?"

"I've no idea," Krios confessed. "None of the dossiers I received for that contract mentioned her name, though it's possible she could have used an alias, either then or now." He let out a mirthless huff of laughter that sounded decidedly bitter. "Unless, of course, she's erased that from my memory, as well."

His words speared through Cecilia's gut like a red-hot blade. _"What?"_ she gasped. She reached out toward where she'd last heard Deena, and was rewarded with her wife's hands warm in her own. "Is that really what… Dee, I thought that kind of thing was… was… incredibly taboo, or, or something like that. Did she really…?"

If it was true, if Ceris really had wiped out part of Krios's memory—would Cecilia ever know if she'd done it to her, too? The things Ceris had made her do—the ones she still knew about, anyway—weighed heavily enough on her conscience. How much had she been forced to forget? The thought twisted her stomach into knots.

She heard Krios turn and walk away. The front door opened and closed again.

"She did," said Deena softly as she crouched in front of her. Her voice was haunted and angry—and all on _his_ behalf. Cecilia had to swallow a sour surge of jealousy. "It's practically unthinkable, yes, but she did."

Sick terror wrapped slimy fingers around her throat and squeezed until she could muster no more than a whisper. "How-how can you be sure?" she stammered.

Deena sighed, her breath wafting over their joined hands as she bowed her head. "I've seen it, Cece," she said. "I melded with him to try and help him recover the memories that were missing, and… all the signs were there."

Those words, too, were a blow, burning through her frightened haze, and Cecilia yanked her hands back. "You _melded_ with him?" she demanded. It was too much. Rage and betrayal erupted and flowed in thick, hot rivers over the horror that already threatened to smother her. She was being buried alive as her world fell to flaming ruins around her. Furious tears slid down her cheeks. "How could you?" she growled. "How _dare_ you?"

But she was such a hypocrite, wasn't she? What right did she have to ask Deena how she dared, when Cecilia herself was just as guilty? Wasn't that what had gotten her into this mess in the first place?

Deena was struck speechless, judging by the indignant but wordless noises she was making. Finally, she protested, "Cece, it's not like that!"

"Oh, it isn't, is it?" Cecilia snarled. She pushed herself out of her chair and stalked away from Deena, cursing as she barked her shin on the coffee table, too upset to pay attention to where she was going. "He shows up here, and I can hear how excited you are to see him. He gets himself hurt, and you drop _everything_ to help him. You bring him into our home—without consulting me at all, by the way—and he takes up all of your time. And now you're melding with him—which you've always assured me was a sacred, intimate thing—and now you're trying to tell me it's _not like that?"_ She turned back around to face her. "Can you see why I might be just a little bit confused?"

"Cece, I—"

"Don't." Cecilia sighed shakily as the anger drained away as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a sick weariness that dragged at her very bones. Her shoulders slumped, and she hung her head. What was the point? "Just go, Dee. Do whatever you have to. We'll deal with this later."

"Cecilia—"

" _Go!"_


	7. Invasive Procedures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes dialogue from the Mass Effect: Foundation graphic novels.

_A clear night: a rarity on Kahje. The moons, full and bright, shine through the window, their harsh illumination falling on my face like a searchlight. Great clusters and scatterings of stars bedeck the heavens, cold and hard and brilliant as diamonds. At another time, I might think them beautiful, but now all I can see is the impenetrable emptiness between them. The unknowable void._

_I cannot sleep._

_Irikah lies curled into my side, her head on my shoulder, her arm around my waist, holding me tightly as if afraid I'll not be there when she wakes. Gently, I kiss the top of her head, silently willing her to know that I will never leave her. But right now, I am restless._

_Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, I slip from our bed and out to the balcony. The ocean breeze is cool on my face, salty and damp. Shivering, I stare out to the horizon, where the glittering sky meets its reflection in the water, and I wonder what I've done wrong. I am free now. My life is my own, and I'm sharing it with someone who, to my perpetual astonishment, loves me. I have everything I never knew I wanted. Why, then, am I so afraid? Why, when I consider the possibilities the future may hold, do my veins fill with ice and my stomach churn with dread?_

_Soft footsteps behind me. I bow my head, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," I murmur. "I didn't mean to wake you."_

" _I couldn't sleep, anyway," she says. She comes closer, and there's something in her hand. "I was going to give this to you in the morning, but I couldn't wait."_

_She holds it out to me: it's a gold coin, rarer than the cloudless sky, an antique but still as shiny as of newly minted. It's large and heavy, stamped with the crest of Rakhana on one side and the face of Arashu on the other. "It belonged to my father," she tells me. "He said rubbing it brought him peace of mind. Maybe it can help you, too."_

_I take it from her slowly, a little overwhelmed. Words fail me as my throat tightens. She and her father are close; this is something that obviously means a great deal to her. For a moment, a great tide of gratitude and love wells up within me and pushes my fears aside, and I gather her, warm and comforting, into my arms. For now, nothing else matters. Just the two of us, the night, and the stars. I blink back tears, still somewhat stunned to know that this incredible woman, this wise, beautiful, caring person, is mine. "I don't deserve you," I finally whisper._

_She chuckles as she tucks her head under my chin. "You're right," she replies, and I can feel her smile._

_The moons shine down on us, soft light falling over our shoulders like an embrace. The stars sparkle against the blackness, beacons of hope in the void._

* * *

The journey to Cyone took them through three mass relay connections, requiring most of a day to navigate as the ship's computer calculated each jump. Thane spent most of that time in meditation. He needed to sort through what he'd learned, try to make sense of it all—and to do that, he had to calm his jangling nerves and approach the situation objectively. Ceris had made this assignment highly personal, yes, but it ultimately changed nothing about his contract. His quarry had only found a unique way of fighting back. He would hunt her down and kill her quickly, cleanly, and painlessly, just like any other. He would not allow emotion to override professionalism. He still had a job to do.

But his mind would not be quieted. More than once on the journey, he would look down and find that, without his conscious awareness, he had withdrawn Irikah's coin from his pocket and was turning it over in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the surface. It had remained on his person at all times ever since the night she'd given it to him, and it often seemed to find its own way into his hand when his thoughts dwelt on her.

It was the kind of thing he would normally consider a childish bit of foolishness, a piece of pointless sentimentality that was particularly surprising coming from a distinguished and serious-minded man like Sere Saavas. The idea that rubbing an old coin could bring peace of mind was superstitious nonsense. But somehow, it did make him feel closer to Irikah while he was away. It bridged the uncounted, interminable light-years between them, a line cast across the gulf, shimmering and unbreakable. It brought him a measure of the warmth and comfort of her presence, even if only through the memories it triggered. It soothed his very soul when he felt troubled.

Perhaps, he mused, it wasn't as foolish and superstitious as he supposed.

He clenched his fist tightly around the coin, letting its edges dig painfully into his palm. Grounding him in the here and now. He needed to focus, not get lost in memories, however comforting they might be.

Scowling, he forced himself to concentrate on the mission at hand. It could not be a coincidence that Ceris had chosen Erissana's compound for her hideout. But what was the connection? Had she been one of the Matriarch's disciples? Perhaps a bodyguard? He scoured his memories of that mission, searching for any detail that might provide a clue.

_We stand out here. There are few non-asari present at this gathering, and we draw many curious glances. We nod and smile back as though we belong. But one of Erissana's guards draws the Matriarch's attention to us. She is suspicious._

Thane closed his eyes, calling up the face of each and every asari he had encountered that night, one by one: armored commandos, robed acolytes, guests in shimmering finery. None of them were Ceris.

Of course, it meant little that he didn't remember seeing her there, didn't it? A chill shivered up his spine as he considered the possibility. Ceris had wiped out several days' worth of memories when she'd forced her way into his mind; nothing could have stopped her from erasing his earlier recollections of her, as well. It would make sense: how could he hunt down and kill someone he couldn't remember? It would have been a perfect escape.

But if escape was indeed her motive, why had she left him with the memory of taking the contract? Why allow him to remember her face, her name? He'd been completely in her power for Gods only knew how long—why had she left him alive at all?

Something was not adding up.

Everything she'd done seemed designed to leave a trail of clues for him to follow, and to torment him along the way. It was almost as if she wanted him to find her, or at least to chase her. He could well be playing directly into her hands by trying to hunt her down.

What could she possibly want from him? Who was he to her, or she to him, that she would create this convoluted game with which to ensnare him?

The answers had to lie in his missing memories. Deena had been unable to retrieve them, but it seemed to him she'd barely tried, focusing instead on figuring out what Ceris had learned an what secrets she'd stolen. Perhaps another attempt could—

_Her fingers are cool on my face. "Look at me," she commands._

_I meet her gaze, and her eyes have turned black. The sight stirs something in me, something terrible, something I cannot place. I want to fight. To run. But I cannot move. I can already feel her mind reaching into my own, as gentle and firm as her touch. I recoil from the contact. I don't want this._

" _It's all right. You have nothing to fear from me," she whispers. "Now, open your mind. Focus. Embrace eternity!"_

_I try to brace myself, but my body is no longer my own. I am at her mercy, utterly vulnerable. Everything I am laid bare before her. And then I am swept away in the tide._

Thane shook his head, swallowing hard against the bile that rose in the back of his throat. No. No more melds. Though he had nothing left to hide from Deena—no more memories he cared if she saw, no more secrets he didn't trust her to keep—he would not submit to such invasive measures again. Since he'd begun freelancing, he had out of necessity kept tight control over every aspect of his life that he possibly could. It was the only way he knew to keep the delicate balance of his family and his work from tumbling into chaos. But now he felt that control slipping away, dissolving like a castle of sand in the rising surf, and he clung to what little he could maintain.

If he were completely honest with himself, that, as much as fear for her safety, was why he'd objected to Deena coming along. Though he knew she meant well, it still felt like an intrusion. Long practice had honed his methods to a fine and efficient edge, and bringing a partner—and an inexperienced one, at that—would force him to adapt them on the fly. And while he was no stranger to improvisation, he still resented being forced into it.

Especially on this mission. He was compromised in more ways than one, and it would take all of his focus, all the effort he could muster, just to complete his task and get out alive. Deena was a liability he couldn't afford. If he had to worry about her as well…

Perhaps he could convince her to stay on the ship. She could hack into the compound's computers, maybe dig up some information that could point to what game Ceris was trying to play.

"Thane? We're in orbit over Cyone. We'll land in Polos in an hour."

Any hope of leaving her behind was dashed, however, the moment he opened his eyes. Deena had changed her clothes, eschewing her usual orange-and-white dress for a set of plain black armor, lightweight and sleek. She had her sniper rifle on her back—a Naginata, he noted with grudging approval, high-tech but reliable—a heavy pistol on her hip, and a field medic's kit in a streamlined pouch strapped to the opposite thigh. A targeting visor arced over her right eye. All of her nervous energy was gone, or at least tucked neatly away beneath a façade of competent determination.

If he'd had difficulty envisioning her as a commando before, he needed no longer try. The transformation was so complete he hardly recognized her.

He knew better than to judge her skills by her appearance alone. But he couldn't help but wonder if she wouldn't be an asset after all.

* * *

_We're wasting our time here._

Lieutenant Calysa grumbled to herself as she slouched against the wall, arms folded, her shotgun dangling from her fingertips at what could only loosely and generously be called low ready. Captain Zensha would rip her a new on if she caught her like this, and it was a terrible example for the troops, but Calysa couldn't bring herself to care anymore. Fuck discipline. Three days, her unit had been stationed here. Three days of patrolling an empty compound, guarding nothing. Three days of keeping watch—and for what? One guy? Who may or may not even be coming?

At least it was a paycheck. A pretty sweet one, too, even considering where it was coming from. Aselda Ceris had been a thorn in the side of the Eclipse for decades, but she was offering enough credits that Zensha had been willing to put aside their differences for a while. So now they were hiding away on Cyone, tantalizingly close to countless fat, ripe targets in Polos proper, but stuck here with nothing to do but shoot vermin.

They were bait, dangling on the end of a hook.

With a wordless snarl, Calysa pushed herself off the wall and began to pace back and forth, shivering. Damn it, it was cold out here, and her armor offered only so much protection from the elements. Meanwhile, _Zensha_ sat inside, "coordinating." Calysa scoffed. More likely, the good captain was holed up somewhere warm, reading one of her stupid romance novels and sipping on ice brandy while she waited for her underlings to report in.

Two short bursts of static over the radio made Calysa jump. She snapped to attention, adjusting her grip on her weapon as the report came in.

" _Lieutenant, this is Sergeant Koreto. We have movement by the east gate. I think it's him! And there's someone with—"_

With a disconcertingly wet-sounding _pop,_ the transmission cut off.

"Koreto? Koreto, are you there? Damn it, Sergeant, _report!"_ Cursing, Calysa turned and sprinted toward Koreto's position, less than a hundred meters from her own, as she changed radio frequencies. "Captain, we have target inbound, east gate! Request reinfor—"

A blinding red flash filled her vision as a targeting laser tracked across her right eye. Then she saw nothing more.

* * *

"Excellent shot," Thane murmured to Deena, pleasantly surprised indeed. She'd not exaggerated her skills. A moving target, at that range, would have presented something of a challenge even for him, and she had taken out the running merc with deliberate precision.

But she did not seem as pleased with her marksmanship. "Find peace in the embrace of the Goddess," she whispered absently. She swallowed hard, rubbing her hands down the front of her armor as though she could wipe the sweat from her palms, and flexing her fingers uncomfortably when her gauntlets prevented her finding any relief. To Thane, she said, "It's been a long time since I shot anything that wasn't a simulation."

He cocked his brow ridge at her. "There is certain to be more fighting ahead," he replied. Now was not the time for guilt or second-guessing. Military experience or no, perhaps Deena had spent too long as a civilian. Though she hadn't hesitated this time, she was obviously shaken by what she'd done. A capable sniper she might be, but it seemed she was no longer a killer—if she ever had been. "If you cannot handle that, you may wait for me on the ship."

But she glared back at him. "I can handle it just fine," she snapped. "Lead on."

They moved quickly from cover to cover, one shadow to the next, as silently as Deena's armor would allow—which was still far too loud for Thane's comfort. So when they were about fifty meters from the east gate, Thane signaled her to stop. Two nervous-looking asari in the yellow and black armor of Eclipse mercs guarded the entrance, assault rifles in hand. A strange-looking white mech crouched between them like a sleeping animal.

"FENRIS mech," Deena whispered. "We'll want to take that out quickly. Don't let it get close. It'll charge as soon as it spots us, and it's got a shock attack that'll bring you to your knees."

"Noted." Thane took aim with his Incisor, centering the crosshairs on the mech's "face." Beside him, Deena scoped in on one of the asari, her biotic barrier shimmering into place around her. "On my mark."

He gave Deena a moment to steady her aim, then said, "Mark," and squeezed the trigger.

Three bullets drilled through the mech's faceplate, shattering the sensors behind it, rendering the unit blind and deaf. Sparking and crackling, it leapt jerkily to its four mechanical feet, sat back like a domesticated pet, and then exploded. The merc Deena had targeted, stunned and unshielded but not dead, was thrown to the ground by the blast and didn't get up. The other staggered, her shields weakened. Before she could recover, three more rounds tore down the rest of her defenses and dropped her.

Thane and Deena broke from cover and sprinted for the gate, skidding to a halt on either side. Deena switched out her sniper rifle for her pistol while Thane charged his biotics and prepared to go hand-to-hand. A moment later, the space outside the gate swarmed with mercs and mechs.

Four asari, two salarians, three LOKI mechs, and two more FENRIS units. The Eclipse had been ready for them.

Thane Threw the nearest FENRIS as it charged him, knocking down a shotgun-wielding salarian. Deena's pistol barked once, twice, and the mech collapsed. Without pausing, she called up her omni-tool and overloaded the salarian's shields, then but another bullet in his skull.

One of the asari turned her assault rifle on Thane, two short bursts glancing off his shields but bringing them dangerously close to failure. A heavy Warp dropped her barrier and staggered her, and he took advantage of her disorientation to close the distance between them. He tore the rifle from her hands, hit her with a palm strike under her chin to keep her off balance, then gripped her jaw and scalp crest and twisted. The wound in his side complained. Her neck snapped.

Two of the LOKIs advanced on him before he could catch his breath. He had his SMG in his hand in an instant, disruptor rounds tearing through their flimsy armor as if it was made of paper and wreaking electronic havoc. He dimly registered the third stumbling back from the melee, red arcs of energy coursing over its surface as Deena sabotaged its systems.

Another asari fell to Deena's pistol, but she fell back with a panicked scream when a fireball from the remaining salarian splashed against her barrier. Thane Pulled him off of her, lifting him into the air, allowing Deena to come back with a Warp. Their combined biotics detonated on impact, sending the hapless merc careening off the battlefield to land in a lifeless heap.

That left two asari and the remaining FENRIS. A shotgun coughed harshly, and Deena went down, her barrier finally failing in a shower of bluish sparks. Her pistol flew from her hands, and she scrambled after it as one of the mercs advanced on her.

Thane charged at the other, but her SMG tore through his shields before he could reach her. A bullet grazed his shoulder, and he hissed as his flesh sizzled with the unwholesome, telltale burn of chemical rounds. The merc's biotics flared, and he was instantly frozen in place, helpless to do anything but watch as the first merc aimed her shotgun at Deena's head, preparing to finish her.

Movement on his left. The merc in front of him grinned cruelly, and released the Stasis field an instant before the last mech pounced upon him.

Its faceplate slammed into his left side with enough force to crack ribs, discharging its shock weapon directly into his wound and driving him to the ground. Jagged lines of agony shot out from the point of impact, ice and fire coursing through his veins until his vision went white. And then blessedly, mercifully black.


	8. Bait and Switch

Deena had never imagined she'd thank the Goddess for the Eclipse mercenaries' particular brand of sadism. She had no chance of reaching her gun in time, but as the merc standing over her paused to savor her kill, it gave Deena the split second she needed.

With a twitch of her hand, she activated her omni-tool and sabotaged the merc's shotgun. It overheated instantly. At the same moment, she rolled to the side, snatched up her pistol, and fired two rounds into the startled merc's head.

She surged to her feet just in time to see the last FENRIS slam into Thane. He hit the ground and went limp, unmoving, and Deena's heart leapt into her throat. The remaining merc aimed her gun at him, finger tightening on the trigger.

Deena sprinted toward them. _"Thane!"_ she cried, and it was almost a scream. She fired her pistol wildly, the shots missing their target, but distracting her for just a second. It was long enough. Deena launched a Singularity as she ran, lifting the merc and the mech off the ground and away from Thane, flailing and yelling. She skidded to a stop, holstered her weapon and drew a deep breath, then reached out with both hands, a wordless shout, and every ounce of energy she had left to throw the most powerful Warp she could muster.

The explosion of biotic effects was thunderous, shaking the ground and rattling Deena's bones. The mech shattered from the force of it, spraying shrapnel in all directions. The merc slammed into the nearby wall of the compound with a sickening crunch, leaving behind a lurid purple splatter when she fell.

And all, for the moment, was quiet.

Utterly spent, Deena collapsed to her knees beside Thane. He was breathing, _thank the Goddess,_ but out cold. She stripped off her gauntlets as she caught her breath, the winter air cooling the burning sensation her biotic pyrotechnics had left behind in her fingertips. Her stomach churned as she surveyed the carnage around them: broken mechs and broken bodies, sparking, smoking, bleeding, shattered. She half expected them to shimmer and disappear like holograms.

When she'd talked up her military experience to Thane, she had deliberately not mentioned the fact that she'd never seen actual combat before. Though there were always mercs and pirates and other such unsavories about, the asari hadn't actually been at war since the Krogan Rebellions, and her unit had been reserves rather than permanent active duty. In the time she'd been with them, she'd trained extensively in simulators like the Armax Arena on the Citadel—training which had stood her in very good stead today, indeed—but she'd never actually killed a person before.

Maybe she shouldn't have insisted on coming, after all.

No, that wasn't fair. There was no way Thane could have taken on all these mercs by himself, let alone be in any shape to face Ceris when it was over. He'd needed the backup, and they'd actually made a damn good team. Besides, she'd just saved his life. If she hadn't tagged along, he'd be dead.

He might still be, if she didn't pull herself together. She gritted her teeth and let out a long, steadying breath. Enough pep talk. She had a job to do.

Studiously ignoring the lingering urge to throw up, she undid Thane's vest to get at the bandage on his side. She peeled it back with numb, trembling fingers, and swallowed hard. As she'd feared, it was stained with fresh blood.

_Damn it, Thane. I told you this was a bad idea._ Shaking her head, she cleaned and smeared a thick layer of medi-gel over the area, replaced the bandage with a dressing from her field medic's kit, and prayed it would be enough. She could only hope he wasn't bleeding internally, because once he woke, there would be no turning him back. Even now. Perhaps especially now.

She turned her attention next to the bullet graze on his upper arm, and grimaced. Those chemical burns would leave a dramatic scar: the mangled scales would probably never grow back. It looked bad and probably hurt worse, but the damage was mostly superficial. And by the time she finished cleaning and dressing it, Thane was beginning to come around.

He coughed and groaned as his eyes fluttered open, his stare glassy and bewildered. Slowly, he sat up, pressing a hand to his wounded side, moving cautiously. The confusion on his face gradually turned to understanding as he looked around, reorienting himself and piecing together what had happened while he was unconscious.

When his gaze fell on the asari mercenary lying crumpled at the base of the wall, he stopped and turned toward Deena, brow ridge raised.

"You're welcome," she said dryly. Pushing herself to her feet with a grunt, she extended a hand to help him up. She staggered and nearly tumbled down on top of him when he accepted—he was heavier than he looked.

Thane steadied her with a hand on her shoulder as he regained his own footing. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

Deena thought for a minute, taking stock. It hadn't even occurred to her that she might have been injured in the fight, but by some miracle, it seemed she'd escaped unscathed. She shook her head. "No… no, I'm okay. Just tired."

Truth be told, she was absolutely drained, every muscle shaking with fatigue. Her very bones felt ready to crumble; her blood ran thin as water. She needed to eat something, or sleep for a week. Or both.

And Thane didn't look much better, but the feverish gleam in his eyes reaffirmed his single-minded determination. He would not be convinced to leave here until either Ceris was dead, or he was.

But the latter possibility was looking more and more likely, so she felt obligated to try. _"You,_ on the other hand, need medical attention," she said firmly. "We can come back. Let's just—"

"No." Thane shook his head. "Now that Ceris knows we're here—as I'm certain she does—she'll go to ground if we let her escape. She'll find another hideout, and we'll be back where we began. We must finish this, here and now." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you with me, or are you not?"

"I…" For a moment, the thought crossed her mind to dig in her heels, to refuse, to knock him back out and drag him out of here, if necessary. But he was probably right: if they left now—if they even could, if Ceris didn't send another swarm of mercs to take them down—if they escaped, their quarry would vanish, and the Goddess only knew if they would ever find her again. She sighed and nodded. "I'm with you."

_And may your gods and mine be with us both._

* * *

Eleven years ago, this compound had bustled with light and life. Many of the galaxy's rich and powerful had gathered here for a gala thrown by the influential—and controversial—Matriarch Erissana, to celebrate the unveiling of a new asari warship. As they crept through dark, dank hallways choked with cobwebs and infested with vermin, Thane's memory superimposed the glittering crowd and ostentatious décor over the stained and empty walls, the aroma of fine food over the reek of dust and decay, the swell of classical music over the lifeless silence. The effect was eerie: this place was a corpse, dead and rotting away.

The trouble was, it was _too_ dead.

"Where are the rest of the mercs?" Deena wondered aloud, even her whisper carrying in the stillness. He breath made white plumes in the chilly air. "Surely that wasn't all of them outside."

"I believe we only met the perimeter guards," Thane agreed. "The rest, it seems, have retreated deeper within."

But still, something was not right. Thane could find no sign that anyone inhabited the compound at all. There appeared to be no power to the building: door after door was sealed shut, their control interfaces dark; the heat had been shut off; even the emergency lighting was dead. Yet there was always a way forward: a door conveniently left open, a staircase rising from a pile of debris, a window into the next room long ago shattered.

Before long, Thane came to a disturbing conclusion. Not only was there always a way forward, there was always exactly _one_ way forward. He stopped just before the corridor turned sharply left, and checked the heat sink on his SMG before glancing back at Deena. "Stay alert," he murmured. "I believe we are walking into a trap."

Deena's eyes widened, and she froze. "What do we do now?"

Before he could answer, movement out the corner of his eye caught Thane's attention. He spun toward it, weapon aimed, finger on the trigger.

Nothing.

No, there it was again, up above. A tiny red light blinked in the darkness, where the walls met the ceiling: something still had power, Thane trained his SMG on it, the light mounted to the barrel illuminating a small surveillance camera. Suspicions confirmed, he said coolly, "We spring the trap."

He fired, the shot deafening in the narrow corridor, and the camera exploded like a firecracker. Seconds later, he could hear shouting in the distance, and the muffled clank of armored footsteps approaching at a run. At least five or six mercs, maybe more. Thane peeked around the corner and spotted light at the end of a long hallway, spilling from an open door leading off to the right. The space between was littered with dusty, abandoned crates, piled high and haphazardly.

Thane gestured to Deena, and they both shut off their lights and took cover. Estimating the distance to the far door at approximately twenty meters, he switched out his SMG for his Incisor. He had no intention of letting these mercs get anywhere near hand-to-hand range this time. Deena was right—loath as he was to admit it, he was in no shape for combat right now. Every muscle ached, his wounds throbbed, and each breath sent little jolts of pain through his left side. Perhaps they should have left, after all. But it was too late now.

He glanced over at Deena where she crouched on the other side of the corridor, pistol in hand, her nervous apprehension replaced with grim determination. She continued to surprise him, and he had to admit to being glad to have her at his side.

The first mercs came skidding around the corner. _"Contact!"_ Thane snapped, and a burst from his rifle took out the lead merc before she even saw him.

A hail of bullets screamed back at him, the first few pinging off his shields as he ducked back into cover. Deena's barrier shimmered into place and she leaned out to return fire, jerking back with a yelp as one narrowly missed her, as well. Thane caught her eye and nodded toward the precariously balanced crates between them and the mercs, and she nodded her understanding.

The moment there was a break in the incoming fire, Thane and Deena stood and, as one, charged their biotics and Threw the crates at the clustered mercs, bowling over three of their assailants and crushing at least one. They dropped back down behind their own crates as the remaining two pushed forward, assault rifles blazing.

Deena cried out as her cover crumbled under the barrage. Scrambling backward, she launched a desperate Singularity at the oncoming mercs. Their shields held, keeping them from being swept off their feet, but they staggered under its pull. Thane picked them off one by one.

Silence fell like a heavy blanket, thick and smothering.

Finally, Deena whispered, "Was that all of them?"

Thane listened for a few more seconds, then nodded and stood. "Only we remain—at this juncture, at least. No doubt there will be more."

As they approached the end of the hall, one merc's radio crackled to life. _"Lieutenant Nasme, this is Captain Zensha._ Report, _damn it!"_

Deena stopped and stared down at the dead mercs thoughtfully. Then she removed her visor, bent down, and removed the lieutenant's helmet. She adjusted something in its settings and put it on. "Lieutenant Nasme reporting, Captain," she said, panting as though out of breath. She began to swiftly and quietly change into the rest of Nasme's armor, as well. "I-I'm the only one left. The rest of my squad is dead."

It was becoming clearer with every passing moment that Deena was indeed an asset on this mission. Thane gave her an encouraging nod. He would have to apologize later for doubting her. But until then, he would let her do what she did best: gather information.

Zensha swore colorfully. _"What about the intruders?"_ she demanded. _"I told you Ceris wants them both alive. I'll have your head if you killed them!"_

That explained how they'd so easily defeated six presumably elite mercenaries—the Eclipse had been shooting to disable, not kill. But something else worried Thane deeply: not only had Ceris evidently anticipated being found, it seemed she was expecting both him _and_ Deena. How could she have known that he had located her at all, let alone that they were both coming for her? When they'd left Illium, the only other person who'd known anything about their destination was…

Thane could see the moment Deena came to the same conclusion. She staggered, bracing herself with a hand on the wall. Her breath hitched, and she bowed her head. "Oh, Goddess, no," she whispered, so softly he barely heard.

" _Say again, Lieutenant?"_ Zensha snarled.

Deena swallowed hard and collected herself with an obvious effort of will. "The asari is dead," she forced out tightly, "but I've captured the drell." She looked at Thane, tilting her head questioningly, and he nodded his understanding of her plan.

A heavy, growling sigh hissed over the radio. _"Well, he's the one she really wants, anyway. Get him in here. Ceris wants to talk to him."_

"Yes, ma'am. Nasme out." Deena shut off the radio and slumped against the wall. He couldn't see her face in her helmet, but the tense hunch of her shoulders and the way she wrung her hands spoke to how distraught she was. "Thane," she whispered plaintively, "what are we going to do?"

Thane reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, and did his best to meet her eyes through her faceplate. "We complete our mission," he said. "We will deal with Cecilia when we return to Illium."

She jumped as if he'd electrocuted her, and swatted his hand away. _"I_ with 'deal with' Cecilia," she snapped. "She is my bondmate. If she has betrayed us, it is my…" Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. "Even if… I just… I don't want to see her hurt."

"Of course." Uncertain of how else to respond to that, Thane stepped back, giving her space to regain her composure.

The Gods only knew what she must be thinking right now. He tried to imagine what he would do if Irikah had sold him out like this, but his mind shied away from the very possibility, recoiling as if burned. It was simply impossible. Unthinkable.

This revelation must have shattered Deena's whole world.

Finally, Deena let out a long, shaky breath and straightened. She cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders, adjusting the ill-fitting armor—the late Lieutenant Nasme had been approximately Deena's height, but perhaps ten kilos heavier, and her gear hung awkwardly loose in places. Hopefully, Ceris and Zensha wouldn't notice until it was too late.

"Okay," she said with a determined nod. "Let's do this."

Thane handed her his rifle and SMG, but kept his dagger concealed beneath his jacket, and they proceeded down the corridor the mercs had come from until they came to a closed door. Deena took a deep breath and seized Thane by his upper arm before entering the room beyond.

He sagged in her grasp as though barely conscious, letting his knees buckle and his head loll as she practically dragged him forward. Though he kept his eyes downcast, he took in as much of their new surroundings as his peripheral vision allowed.

The room had once been a large office, perhaps belonging to Erissana herself. Empty shelves lined the walls, and the furniture had been covered with drop cloths. But a few of those cloths lay discarded in a corner, and a heating unit and temporary lighting had been rigged up in the center of the room. And behind a polished wooden desk, a single asari in gleaming white armor lounged in a richly cushioned chair. Ceris was nowhere to be seen.

"Captain Zensha," said Deena crisply, "the prisoner, as ordered, ma'am." She flung Thane forward, and he stumbled deliberately and fell to his hands and knees. He kept his head down, exaggerating his injuries, playing the part of a beaten man.

The chair's ornate legs scraped against the floor as Zensha stood, and her footsteps as she came around the desk were slow and measured. "Well, well, it's really you," she said, her voice dripping with false wonder. When he could see her boots, she stopped and squatted in front of him. "Thane Krios. How the mighty have fallen."

She hauled him roughly to his feet, the hard fingers of her gauntlet finding the bandage on his arm and digging in cruelly until he let out a genuine gasp of pain. Shoving him toward the desk, she waved Deena over. "Nasme, come here and make sure he doesn't go anywhere."

When Deena's gentler hand replaced hers, Zensha sat back down in her commandeered chair. She placed a call from her omni-tool and transferred it to the computer that sat on the desk, and in moments, Ceris's scowling face appeared on the screen. The sight of her made Thane's stomach twist into knots.

" _Do you have something for me, Zensha?"_

A satisfied smirk spread across the Eclipse captain's face. "I do. And I think you're going to like this, Aselda." She turned the computer around so its camera faced outward from the desk. "I have Thane Krios—and Deena T'Neri."


	9. So Help Me God

Ceris laughed grimly as, at a gesture from Zensha, four more asari mercs appeared seemingly out of nowhere to disarm Deena and restrain her and Thane. He gritted his teeth at the sound, forcing down the twisted memory of a nightmare that rose like bile in his throat. His head swam, and it took a concerted effort of will to remain focused on the situation at hand.

He kept his eyes downcast and his shoulders slumped, continuing to overplay his injuries. Ceris may or may not be fooled, but perhaps he could goad her into revealing something useful in her overconfidence. At the very least, he could take the mercs by surprise if it came to another fight.

Wisely, Deena did not protest as one of the mercs roughly yanked off her stolen helmet. But her entire body trembled with tension, and her breath came rapidly and shallowly as she edged toward panic. Thane could only pray she wouldn't try anything rash. An opportunity for escape would present itself, he was sure. She only had to follow his lead.

And for now, that meant letting Ceris think she'd won.

But Ceris was perceptive, and knew where to focus her taunts. _"Well, well, it really is you. I have to admit, I'm hurt,"_ she said, pouting. _"I'd actually hoped you wouldn't find your way to Cyone. Do you know why that is… Deena?"_

"What have you done to Cecilia?" Deena snarled. She struggled uselessly against the mercs holding her back. "I swear, Ceris, when I—"

But Ceris only laughed harder. _"What have_ I _done to_ her? _Maybe you should ask what she's done to you!"_ She leaned forward until her face filled the screen. _"Your 'bondmate' has been working with me for_ years."

Though it only confirmed what they'd already figured out, the words seemed to hit Deena like a shotgun blast. Her breath left her in a rush, and all the defiance drained from her posture. Her mouth opened and closed silently, words failing her.

"Enough of your games," Thane growled, trying to force Ceris's attention back on him and away from Deena. He raised his eyes slowly to meet her mocking gaze. "Leave her out of this. It's me you want."

" _I want? I_ want?" All of Ceris's laughter evaporated in an instant, replaced by an incandescent rage that seethed in her gray eyes like molten steel. _"You don't have any idea what I want! What I want is gone forever._ Because _of you."_

Thane blinked in surprise. He had assumed that her vendetta against him was only because he'd tried to kill her; it hadn't occurred to him that she might have another motive. What that motive could be, however, he couldn't begin to guess. "I don't understand," he said. "I do not know you, Ceris. I only accepted a contract."

" _Well, I know you, and what you've done,"_ she sneered. _"I've been in your mind. You think your 'prayers for the wicked' can actually absolve you of your sins?"_ The anger faded from her face, leaving behind a cold, calculated calm that was somehow even more unsettling. _"I know you better than anyone else in the galaxy. Including your wife."_

She was only trying to get a reaction from him, he knew. Even so, her mention of Irikah was nearly enough to stop his heart. What if he'd been right all along, and Ceris had indeed gone to Kahje? Had Cecilia given him this location as a decoy? Irikah would have taken Kolyat into hiding by now, but had Ceris found them?

The pieces were beginning to fall into place, and the picture they formed was one he couldn't bear to confront. "Don't," he bit out, uncertain if the word was a threat or a plea. The mercs holding him tightened their grip, but he could feel them shifting their weight nervously.

Ceris only grinned cruelly back at him. _"Oh, I thought about it, I did. But then you'd have nothing to lose, and I don't want that. Not yet, anyway. No, I have something special in mind for you. Mark my words, Krios: I'm going to destroy you. I'm going to bring you so low you'll never see daylight again."_

It was impossible to tell if she was lying or not. But there was nothing more he could do to protect his family than he already had, except to find Ceris and end her games, once and for all. "Your vague threats mean nothing," Thane snapped. "Whatever I've done to wrong you so, come out and face me. Don't hide behind your cowardly schemes. If you want revenge, come and take it."

" _Maybe I will,"_ Ceris snarled. _"Zensha, the asari is no longer useful. Kill her, and bring Krios to me."_ The computer screen went blank before Zensha could acknowledge her order.

The mercs hesitated for only an instant, but that instant was all Thane needed. He dropped and spun around, wrenching his arms free of their grasp and sweeping the legs from under one of them. He drew his dagger and plunged it into the downed merc's throat. Flinging his other hand out, he Threw the other one into a wall, and she collapsed, unmoving.

Deena had managed to throw off her captors as well, but she now cringed behind a rapidly weakening biotic shield as the three remaining mercs pummeled her with gunfire. Sweat poured down her face as she struggled to maintain her defenses under the barrage.

Thane snatched up the dying merc's shotgun and blasted the nearest attacker in the back, staggering her and dropping her shields. She spun to face him, her biotics flaring, but another shot blew a messy hole in her armor, and she fell.

With a painful jolt and a noise like shattering glass, Thane's shields overloaded and collapsed. Zensha followed the tech attack with a Warp that brought him to his knees with a cough. He dropped the shotgun, gasping and dizzy, certain for a moment that his innards were being ripped out through the wound in his side.

But the distraction bought Deena time to back away from her remaining attacker and find cover. Her barrier held just long enough for her to duck behind a cloth-draped cabinet, and she disappeared from view.

Catching his breath, Thane pushed himself to his feet and Lifted the last mercenary underling into the air. From her hiding place, Deena fired a Warp of her own, detonating their biotic effects and driving the merc into the floor with a crunch of breaking bones.

That left only Captain Zensha. Deena's omni-tool flared to life, and Zensha's shields sparked and fell. Thane gathered the last of his strength and charged at her, vaulting over the desk and tackling her to the floor. He pinned her there with a knee in her back and tore her weapon from her hand, flinging it out of reach.

And just that quickly, it was over.

Moving slowly, as if in a trance, Deena emerged from her cover and picked up a pistol from one of the dead mercs. She came around the desk to stand by Zensha's head, and aimed the gun at the back of the captain's skull with trembling hands. The look in her eyes was… unsettling.

Thane leaned down and pressed the edge of his dagger to Zensha's neck. "I will only ask you this once," he said, forcing his voice to remain icily calm. "Where is Aselda Ceris?"

But Zensha only snorted in response. "Go to hell, Krios."

"Wrong answer," said Deena, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet missed Thane's hand by bare centimeters, and he leapt back with a curse as Zensha's head exploded. He glared up at Deena. "Was that necessary?"

Deena crouched down, careful to avoid the spreading pool of purple blood, and ripped the omni-tool from Zensha's wrist. "This is all we need," she said tonelessly. "When we get back home, I can trace the call she made."

"And we could have saved ourselves the time if we had convinced her to talk," Thane snapped. He stood and stepped back from the body, anger warring with exhaustion within him and, for the moment, winning. "What were you thinking?"

"I…" Deena stared wide-eyed at the corpse, the impact of what she'd done slowly dawning on her face. "I had to… oh, Goddess." The pistol fell from her nerveless fingers, and she wavered, nearly collapsing. She caught herself with one hand on the ground—and froze as Zensha's rapidly cooling blood soaked her palm.

Her face suddenly went very pale, and she shot to her feet and staggered back a few steps before falling to her knees and vomiting. She pulled off the bloody gauntlet and threw it across the room, then began stripping off the rest of her stolen armor with trembling, clumsy fingers. When she was done, she remained huddled on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, shivering and crying.

The sight of her like that hit Thane like a dash of cold water. In the heat of combat, it had been easy to temporarily forget that she'd been a civilian for many decades. The fighting and death to which he had become so inured were shocking to her. And she'd just been dealt a serious emotional blow, as well, which up to now she'd handled incredibly well. But now that the immediate danger was past, it was all catching up to her, the horrors of what she'd seen and learned and done all crashing down upon her at once. And she'd finally crumbled under the weight of it.

Thane knelt beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder, uncertain of what to say. Anything he came up with, however sincere, rang trite and hollow in his mind.

Perhaps she shouldn't have come, after all. If Thane had come here on his own and learned the truth about Cecilia's duplicity, he could have broken it to her gently. She wouldn't have had to fight, to kill. She wouldn't have had to face the temptation to murder the Eclipse captain.

But then again, he reflected, he would very likely be dead. His injury had slowed him down far more than he'd wanted to admit, and she'd saved his life more than once. So finally, he said simply, "Thank you."

Slowly, Deena raised her head and wiped the tears from her face, her breath still coming in hitching gasps, deliberately looking anywhere except at Zensha's body. "How do you do this?" she asked plaintively. "Is this… is this normal, for you?"

"Yes… and no," Thane said, answering her second question first. "If I have to fight through guards to get to my target, it usually means I've made a mistake. But I've often taken contracts on entire gangs or slaver rings. The hanar trained my body and mind for this since I was a young child—I am quite used to being outnumbered in combat." He shook his head. "Never before, however, has an assignment become this personal. There is much more at stake here. For both of us."

"For both of us," she repeated dully. "This is just getting started, isn't it?" She drew a deep, unsteady breath, let it out slowly, then pushed herself to her feet. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

* * *

The air in Aunt Kaedi's house was heavy.

That was the only way Kolyat could really describe it. There was nothing wrong with the humidity control in this part of the Dome, and there wasn't any noticeable smell. But it was hard to breathe.

Mother and Aunt Kaedi seemed to notice it, too. They were obviously uncomfortable, and spoke shortly to one another. And Aunt Kaedi's betrothed—Kolyat supposed he'd better get used to calling him "Uncle Adaan"—definitely felt it, but was very deliberately and determinedly ignoring it, going out of his way to make Kolyat feel welcome and happy.

Kolyat could see right through his smiles, though. He had that same tightness around his eyes that Mother did. He was worried.

And every night, when the doors were closed and lights were off and Kolyat was supposed to be sleeping, he heard things. Things the adults didn't think he would. Not words, no matter how hard he strained to listen, but tones. Hushed arguments, quiet pleading, muffled sobbing. There was something wrong, something terribly wrong, and that was why Mother had taken him here in the middle of the night. Father was supposed to come take care of it, but he hadn't. That was probably why they were all so worried. Or maybe they were mad at him.

And on the fourth night, it got worse. They were arguing again, and Aunt Kaedi raised her voice until Kolyat caught the end of a sentence. "…if you will not _tell_ me what is going on!" she demanded.

Someone hushed her—probably Mother—and there was a long silence. Then a voice that was definitely Mother's said something that drew horrified gasps from Aunt Kaedi and Uncle Adaan both. Then their argument began again, and continued until Kolyat fell asleep.

* * *

Cecilia heard the front door open, but not close. No footsteps approached. No one greeted her. There was only stony silence from whoever stood in the doorway.

She thought at first that Deena was home—who else would simply walk in without so much as knocking? But Deena didn't usually just stand there like that. She always called out a greeting, then came and swept her up in an embrace. But this silence stretched on, until Cecilia began to wonder if she'd really heard anything at all.

No, the door was definitely open. The sounds of the city outside were louder, unmuffled, and a cool breeze blew in.

Her breath stilled in her throat as her imagination conjured up possibilities, each one more frightening than the last. Maybe something had happened to Deena on Cyone, and Krios had returned alone. Maybe he had killed her himself, and was here for Cecilia now—he was an assassin, after all. Maybe his whole story was a ruse, and she and Deena had been his targets all along!

Or maybe… what if Ceris had learned of her betrayal and sent someone after her? What if she'd sent _Krios_ after her? Had they been working together this whole time? The thought set her heart pounding and made her mouth go dry. Oh, God, she was well and truly fucked, wasn't she?

Whoever was there, they seemed to be waiting for her to make the first move. Just another intimidation tactic? It was hard to tell, but she couldn't take the one-sided staring contest any longer. She stood, bracing herself with her hands on the table as her knees trembled and threatened to give out. "Hello?" she croaked.

The person in the doorway drew a shaky breath, then let it out in a long, furious hiss. _"How could you?"_ came a hoarse but familiar whisper.

"Deena!" Now her knees did collapse, dropping her back into her chair as her head spun with relief. Cecilia strained to hear if anyone was with her, but as far as she could tell, they were alone.

Deena finally came inside, the door closing behind her. She approached slowly, her footfalls unusually measured and heavy. Something was wrong. She'd learned something while she was out running around with the assassin. Something terrible.

Cecilia swallowed hard, her heart sinking. Had she learned the truth? How much of it? Knowing Ceris, only the most damning parts of it, most likely. She could only pray her wife retained enough love for her to allow her to explain. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking.

That halted Deena in her tracks. "You're _sorry?"_ she demanded incredulously. "Do you really think _sorry_ can excuse what you've done?" She was crying, her voice high-pitched and tremulous.

"No, I… no." Cecilia bowed her head. "I don't… I don't expect you to forgive me, I just… I had no choice."

"No choice." Deena repeated the words slowly, rolling them around in her mouth as if tasting them. "No _choice._ By the Goddess, Cecilia, how long has it been? How long have you been working for her? And _why?"_

She wanted to tell the truth. Deena deserved the truth. All of it, down to the last detail. And Cecilia had sworn to herself that when this mess was all over, she would confess everything. And if Deena had returned from Cyone, that had to mean Ceris was dead, right?

But now that the time had come, her breath caught in her throat, her stomach clenched, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She couldn't speak.

All she could think of was that she was free. Her life was her own again. No more secrets, no more blackmail, no more lies or subversion or spying or betrayal. Ceris was dead, and could never trouble her again. She wanted, more than anything else, to tell Deena everything, to finally lay down the burden she had carried for so long. To come clean at last.

But her mouth would not form the words. Her throat constricted until only a pathetic squeak emerged, and she lowered her head onto her arms and wept.

Deena sighed shakily and sat down across from her. "Cece, talk to me," she pleaded. "I want to understand. I _need_ to understand. I need to know how you could do this to me. To us. I thought…" A strangled sound escaped her, a sob choked off before it could become a wail. "Cece, I _loved_ you!"

Her words sent a chill shivering down Cecilia's spine to settle like a rock in her stomach. _Loved,_ past tense. That, more than anything, drove home just how badly she'd fucked up.

All she'd have had to do was confess. If she could have swallowed her pride and done the hard thing four years ago—God, had it really been that long?—she could have spared them both so much pain.

Deena might have forgiven her then. Maybe. But now?

Not a chance.

But now that part of the truth had come out, she would only make things worse by trying to hide the rest of it any longer. She sat up slowly, forcing her breathing back under control and wiping the tears from her face. "I… Dee, I screwed up. Bad," she began. "And I tried to hide it from you, and it got… out of hand. And Ceris had enough leverage to… Dee, she had me right where she wanted me." More tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Deena didn't answer, didn't audibly move. The silence was unnerving.

Cecilia took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Four years ago, I… I had a moment of… of weakness. And I… I slept with Ceris."

"You slept with Ceris," Deena repeated dully. "I don't… you… what do you mean, _out of hand?"_

"She was going to tell you," said Cecilia. "I begged her not to. I-I was going to tell you myself, but I… I was afraid of how you'd react, and I kept putting it off. When she found out I hadn't told you yet, she told me she would—unless I did a favor for her." She bowed her head. "It was a little thing. Hacking a computer and transferring some credits. A crime, but a petty one. And I thought it was over."

"But it wasn't." Deena's voice was cold.

"It wasn't." The words came out in a strained whisper. "A few days later, she contacted me again. Another 'favor.' Another crime to commit, or she'd reveal everything. The infidelity and the theft."

"Oh, Cece."

"Every time, it was 'just one more.' But each one was a little bigger. And she started asking for other things, too. Or rather…" She swallowed hard and shuddered. "Taking them."

Deena said nothing. Her silence was smothering, and Cecilia trembled under the weight of it.

She forged ahead. "She made… she made me contact your friend," she confessed. "Krios. The contract was a trap. She—" An awful thought occurred to her, and she gasped. "Oh, God. Where is he? Did he…?"

"He's alive," said Deena quietly. "He's getting some much-needed medical attention." Her words were clipped and flat, enunciated with tightly controlled precision. "I assume you knew that Cyone was a trap, as well. You knew that Ceris wasn't there."

"What? No!" Cecilia's heart pounded, her stomach twisting into knots. That couldn't be true! "Deena, I had no idea, I swear. I thought she was there. She _told_ me she was there!"

Deena stood and began to pace back and forth. "Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that I believe you," she said. Her tone betrayed no emotion whatsoever, which was somehow far more crushing than anger would have been. "You would have delivered us directly to her?"

"I thought I was delivering _her_ to you! I thought Krios would kill her. It's what he does, isn't it?" Cecilia raked her hands through her hair, clutching the strands in her fists as she gritted her teeth. "I was supposed to be keeping him away from her. She told me where she was—I thought—so I could redirect him if he caught her trail. I thought I could fuck up her plans, get rid of her once and for all."

Deena's pacing stopped abruptly, and she inhaled sharply. "Then she knows, Cece," she said. "She knows you've betrayed her."


	10. Square Zero

When Thane had returned from having his injuries seen to, he'd found Deena seated at the kitchen table, staring at nothing, a cup of tea untouched and long gone cold in her hands. His arrival had startled her out of her reverie, and she had burst from her stunned stillness into a flurry of nervous energy in the space of a heartbeat. And now he could only watch from the couch, helpless and apprehensive, as she paced restlessly back and forth.

Cecilia was nowhere to be found. Thane could not decide whether he should be relieved or worried.

Deena had relayed Cecilia's story in tones of alternating rage and grief, tears spilling down her face. Thane wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know how. Nothing he could say would change anything, nor ease her pain. All he could do was listen.

"I spent the whole trip home praying it wasn't true," she moaned. "I tried to convince myself Ceris was lying, that she was only trying to get under my skin. There had to be some other explanation—a leak in my security, a bug in my office, anything. For a moment, I even wondered if Marlei…" She choked back a sob, though it seemed it might tear her apart. "Anyone but Cecilia."

"Ceris is a master manipulator," said Thane, schooling his voice to remain carefully neutral. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands under his chin. "It would take exceptional strength of will to avoid falling under her spell."

Deena sighed heavily. "I know. To be honest, that's not even what I'm upset about. Not really."

"What is it, then?"

She blinked at him incredulously, as though the answer should be obvious. "The _lies,"_ she hissed. "All she would have had to do was tell me what she'd done. We could have worked through it! But she didn't trust me enough. Or didn't love me enough? I mean, maybe that's why she slept with Ceris in the first place. I wasn't _enough_ for her." The tears began again in earnest. "Thane, what if I—"

"Deena." Thane stood and stopped her pacing with a hand on her elbow. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps she hid it from you _because_ she loves you? That she may simply have been too ashamed, too afraid to lose you? Perhaps…" He hesitated, considering for a moment just how much he wanted to say. This was coming dangerously close to something he'd not confessed to anyone, not even Irikah.

But Deena had been inside his mind, had seen everything there was to see. All of his own failings and indiscretions—

_(eyes the color of oceans at midnight)_

—and one shameful, dreadful secret.

He hadn't expected to find himself defending Cecilia, but… well, it was possible she was not quite the villain he'd thought her to be. Only a fallible and imperfect being, trying and occasionally failing to be a good person. The Gods knew, he had no room to judge.

"Perhaps she was only trying to spare you from pain," he said quietly.

"I…" Deena stared at him, her purple eyes wide and dull, as the meaning of his words sank in. "Maybe. Maybe you're right." She drew a deep, shuddering breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks with both hands. "But that still leaves us with the question of what to do now."

Thane nodded. "However willing you may be to forgive, the fact remains she can no longer be trusted," he said. "Ceris may continue to use her guilt to manipulate her, or may come after her directly."

"Well, I can't just abandon her. I won't," Deena said firmly. "We have to protect her."

"And the most effective way to accomplish that will be to locate and eliminate Ceris as quickly as possible," Thane replied. "Have you made any progress with Zensha's omni-tool?"

Deena swallowed hard and looked away. "No," she said. "I… I haven't started working on it yet."

Thane gritted his teeth in frustration. "Why not?" he demanded. "Ceris's lead on us is already considerable, and every moment we waste makes it even greater. Time is not out ally in this, Deena."

But she would not, or could not, meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just… I can't even look at it without thinking about what I… what I did back there."

Her words brought him up short. "Of course," he said, more gently. He hadn't considered at all her feelings about what had happened to Captain Zensha and the Eclipse mercs—an embarrassing oversight that left him feeling selfish and guilty. "Please forgive me. You have done more than enough, more than I had any right to ask, and I am deeply in your debt. You needn't worry about this. I have other contacts here on Illium; perhaps one of them can—"

"No." Deena shook her head. "No, I'll do it. It's my family on the line now, too."

* * *

Maralei set her bowl of stew on her desk beside her computer. She was supposed to be taking it easy—the poison she'd been dosed with had left no lasting damage, but Deena had insisted she not push herself for a while. However, when she'd come home from the hospital and seen the sheer volume of backlogged correspondence in her inbox, she had resigned herself to at least a week of very long days, indeed. This would be the third day in a row she'd left the office at her usual time, only to come home and continue working through dinner.

But no sooner had she sat down and lifted her fork to her mouth than someone knocked at the door to her studio apartment. Not the polite tap of a friend come to call, nor the businesslike thumping of a mail carrier making a delivery—this was an insistent, authoritative hammering that could only mean trouble. Maralei jumped at the sound, her heart in her throat, dropping her fork in her lap and smearing gravy down the front of her dress.

Swearing under her breath, she grabbed a napkin to clean herself up. "Coming," she called out, as whoever was out there ponded on the door again.

" _Nos Astra Police. Please open the door, ma'am,"_ came the muffled response.

Maralei froze for an instant, her blood turning to ice. The police? What could they want? An officer had questioned her about the poisoning while she was in the hospital, and this one didn't sound like she was just here for follow-up.

Detective Anaya, on the other hand, had had it out for Deena as long as Maralei could remember. She didn't trust information brokers, and had made it her personal crusade to find a reason to arrest Deena—or at least drive her out of Nos Astra. She'd never found anything before, but… _Oh, Goddess. The police took my work computer. Did they get in? Did they find something on it?_

But the longer she hesitated, the more suspicious she would look. So she gave up on her stained dress, swallowed hard, and opened the door.

"Hello, Miss Calisi," said Anaya with a predatory grin: an unsettling departure from her usual frustrated grimace. She flashed her badge, as if Maralei didn't already know her far too well. "May I come in?"

Maralei stepped back to let Anaya inside, but did not invite her to sit. "What can I do for you, Detective?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice from trembling.

Anaya chuckled, looking for all the world like a varren with a juicy steak. "Don't look so scared. I'm not here to arrest you."

An unspoken _yet_ hovered in the air between them like a bad smell. It almost sounded like a threat.

"Then what _do_ you want?" Maralei demanded.

With a deliberately casual shrug, Anaya said, "I just want you to tell me what you know about a certain freelance merc who's been seen around here. One Aselda Ceris?"

"Ceris?" Maralei frowned, even as relief washed over her and relaxed her defensive posture a fraction. Maybe she wasn't here about Deena after all. "What do you want to know?"

Anaya leaned a hip against the kitchen table, crossing one ankle over the other and folding her arms. "What's her problem with your boss?"

Maralei's relief was short-lived—this may not be about Deena, but it was still hitting a little too close to home. There was no way she was getting out of this without either herself or Deena looking guilty. So she decided not to say anything. "I want an advocate present for this," she bit out stiffly.

"Okay," said Anaya amiably. "But I just want you to be aware, I have more than enough evidence to subpoena this information. I _will_ find out what I need to know. And it'll be so much easier for you if you just cooperate."

Now, that was definitely a threat. Maralei weighed her options for a long moment. If she talked, Deena would probably fire her—but if she didn't, she risked going to prison on the strength of whatever "evidence" Anaya thought she had. Was her job really worth her freedom?

She would just have to be careful of how much she said. "Ceris is a pirate," she said finally. "About five years ago, she attacked an asari merchant vessel. Most of the crew were killed. But, uh, the captain survived—barely—and she went to Deena for help. Deena not only helped her find Ceris, but also hired a small crew to help her recover her stolen cargo." She shrugged. "They nearly succeeded. Ceris has held a grudge against Deena ever since."

Anaya cocked an eyebrow at her. "Nearly?"

"Nearly," Maralei confirmed. "The captain was killed in the attempt."

"I see." Anaya looked unimpressed. "It sounds like Deena went above and beyond for this, _uh,_ captain."

Maralei hesitated. She'd said too much already. But Anaya was after Ceris, now, wasn't she? Maybe if she knew who the captain was, she might actually help. She could only pray the detective wouldn't pry any further. "The merchant captain… was Deena's sister," Maralei said. "Ceris killed her."

"Any yet, somehow, it's Ceris who holds a grudge against Deena." Anaya shook her head. "Think you can fill in that leap of logic for me?"

Wringing her hands, Maralei bit her lip. She had no choice, now. "The crew Deena hired… it was a gang of batarian mercs," she admitted. "They were just supposed to cover the cargo, I swear! But they…" She blinked back tears. "It wasn't Deena's fault, Detective, They betrayed her!"

"What did they do, Miss Calisi?" Anaya snapped. "Out with it!"

Maralei flinched at the tone of her voice and the spark of triumph in her eyes. "I want my advocate, Anaya."

Anaya stood straighter, sneering. "That's your right. But I have my officers executing a search warrant on Deena's office right now. I have all the evidence I need to put her away for a long time, and if you fight me, I can nail you, too." Her face and voice softened. 'Look, I'm not supposed to tell you this, not yet. But… I have a source that says it was _Deena_ who poisoned you! Does she really deserve your blind loyalty?" She shook her head, almost sadly. "Work with me, Maralei, and I'll work with you."

But Maralei barely heard her over the thundering of her own heartbeat in her ears. Anaya's accusation coursed through her like an electric shock, and it took a supreme effort of will just to keep her knees from buckling. "No… no, that can't be… she couldn't have…" The tears finally spilled over. "She wouldn't do that to me!"

"Wouldn't she? Would you really put it past her, if it meant she could place the blame on the one who killed her sister?" Anaya laid a gentle hand on Maralei's shoulder. "You know her well You know the lengths she goes to, to protect—or avenge—the people she loves. The question is: are you one of them?"

"I…" Maralei's eyes widened. "She's always been kind to me, but… I'm just her secretary." She sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. "All right. The batarians she hired—they slaughtered Ceris's crew," she admitted. "Brutalized them. Ceris was the only one who escaped."

"Just like Deena's sister was the only survivor of Ceris's raid."

"Exactly like that." Maralei bowed her head. "I always thought—I wondered if that could really be a coincidence. But I never thought Deena was really capable of… of… oh, Goddess forgive me."

* * *

With Deena at her office and Cecilia still in the wind, the silence of the apartment took on a presence of its own. It was not the restful silence of an evening in, nor the peaceful stillness that followed a long and trying day. This was a palpable silence, a silence of things missing, a calm before a devastating storm. It was the way the tide pulled back in advance of a catastrophic wave. It was empty lungs before the trigger was pulled.

This silence rang. It vibrated with anticipation and dread. It hovered over Thane's shoulder and watched his every move, intruded in his meditations, and smothered his prayers.

He turned Irikah's coin over and over in his hand, concentrating on the weight of it, allowing himself to be hypnotized by the way it caught the light. Gold, like the sunlight. Like her scales. Rich and warm and comforting.

_(I don't deserve you)_

He had certainly proven that, time and time again.

With a frustrated hiss, he pushed himself to his feet and began to pace back and forth. He hated waiting like this, doing nothing while someone else did the work. But there was nothing else to be done until Deena cracked Zensha's omni-tool and traced it back to Ceris. Nothing to do but wait, and rest, and try to keep guilty memories, stirred to life by recent events like the unquiet dead, at bay.

In silence.

And so when the chime of an incoming call on his omni-tool unceremoniously shattered that stifling quietude, Thane jumped like a frightened child. He took a moment to compose himself, to control his breathing and calm his racing heart, intensely glad no one had been around to see that. He chuckled softly to himself—how ridiculous, to let his imagination run away with him so.

But even that small bit of mirth evaporated when he saw who was calling, and despite the audio-only connection, he scowled as he answered. "It is quite bold of you to contact me now, Cecilia," he said. "It is also unwise."

" _I know,"_ came the reply, and her voice trembled, watery and thick. Was she crying? _"I just don't know where else to turn. As bad as it sounds, you're the only one I can trust right now. And I've just learned something you'll need to know."_

Thane raised his brow ridge skeptically. "Your trust may be misplaced, Cecilia. You must know that it is not reciprocated."

" _I know. God help me, I know. But you'll find out about this sooner or later, anyway."_ She choked back a sob. _"Sere Krios, Deena's been arrested!"_

Thane's blood ran cold. "Arrested?" he demanded. "On what charges?"

" _A laundry list. Embezzlement, grand larceny, assault, accessory to various crimes. Conspiracy to commit murder. Obstruction of justice."_ She drew a deep, shuddering breath and let it out in a rush. _"Anything Detective Anaya could get to stick—and she has evidence for most of it."_

"What kind of evidence?"

" _Fake evidence, that's what kind,"_ Cecilia growled. _"Passed to her by Ceris. Anonymously."_

If true, that could be problematic, indeed. "How do you know that?"

There was a long pause, then Cecilia said softly, _"Because Deena is being charged with crimes_ I _committed, that Ceris blackmailed me into. She's punishing me for betraying her."_

Thane considered this information carefully. His first instinct, knowing what he did now, was to assume she was lying. Surely Ceris would have tightened her grip on Cecilia to a stranglehold after the debacle on Cyone; it was likely she was controlling her every move now. He knew how crime bosses like Ceris operated—it would not be long before Cecilia outlived her usefulness and Ceris had her killed. But not before she'd pressed every advantage she had.

If she was lying, though, what purpose could that serve? Would it not be to Ceris's advantage to allow Thane to believe Deena was guilty?

Perhaps she was counting on that. Perhaps Ceris knew that he would be inclined to disbelieve Cecilia, and was attempting a bit of reverse psychology to convince him of Deena's guilt.

" _Sere Krios?"_ Cecilia's voice broke into his thoughts, toneless and flat. _"I know you have no reason at all to want to help me, and God knows I don't deserve it. But if you care at all for Deena… please."_

Thane nodded. "I will do what I can."


	11. Until Proven Innocent

_I should be savoring this moment._

Anaya folded her arms and frowned as she watched her prisoner through the two-way mirror. Finally, after decades of dead ends and near misses and technicalities and tied hands, she had Deena T'Neri shackled and sitting in an interrogation room. Anaya should have been jumping for joy. This was the moment of triumph she'd begun to despair of ever achieving.

But something soured it. Something kept her lip curled and her jaw clenched, and it wasn't just the sense of justice almost, but not yet, served.

Maybe it was the anonymous tipster who'd given her the evidence that had broken the case wide open. Anaya didn't trust anyone who wouldn't even give her a name. She had checked it all out personally, though, and it looked legitimate—legitimate enough to convince the magistrate to issue a search warrant, anyway. And what her officers had found in their search had borne it all out. But still, not knowing the identity of this mysterious benefactor left a sour taste in her mouth.

Maybe it was the conversation she'd had with Maralei Calisi. Damn it, what had she been thinking? If that girl ever grew a spine and thought about it long enough, she could sue Anaya's ass into oblivion, and the whole Nos Astra police department with her. Anaya should have stopped her questioning the instant Calisi asked for counsel. But no, she'd been so eager to finally, _finally_ nail T'Neri to the wall that she'd let the rules fly out the window, along with any sense of ethics she'd ever claimed to have. If Calisi thought to complain, there would be serious disciplinary action in Anaya's future—if she were lucky. If she were unlucky, the whole case could get thrown out.

Or maybe it was T'Neri herself. Anaya had seen plenty of guilty people try to act innocent, and they always had a tell. A nervous tic, or a too-casual attitude, or the classic, wide-eyed "Who, _me?"_ But T'Neri was acting more… impatient. And her behavior during her arrest had been strange as well. She'd been frightened and angry at first—almost everyone was when the cuffs came out—but when Anaya had told her the charges, she'd seemed almost… relieved. She'd stopped resisting, calmly maintained her innocence, and allowed the officers to lead her away with no further fuss.

It didn't make any sense.

Whatever the cause, Anaya found her enthusiasm for this long-awaited moment severely dampened, and that in itself angered her further. That, and T'Neri herself. Though there was no clock in the room, she kept looking around for one as if out of habit. She leaned her chin on one hand, drumming her fingers on the table with the other. She stared expectantly at the mirror as if she could see through it, giving Anaya the unsettling sensation they were actually making eye contact. Her whole attitude was, well, bored.

_Fine, then,_ Anaya thought with a snarl. _You want something interesting? Let's make this interesting._

Anaya scooped up a handful of datapads, straightened her jacket, and marched into the interrogation room. She let the door slide shut just behind her, and stood there as T'Neri turned slowly to face her. Now they did make eye contact, and Anaya held her gaze in silence. She allowed a smile to spread across her face. Yes, she was going to enjoy this very much.

She waited until the silence stretched and became brittle, and T'Neri's bored confidence began to waver. When the cold steel in those bright purple eyes turned to uncertainty, Anaya approached the table with long, deliberate steps. She sat on the edge of it, just inside T'Neri's personal space, looming over her and forcing the smile from her face before it could become a maniacal grin.

"Fifty. Years," she began.

T'Neri blinked, but didn't answer.

Anaya stood again and began to pace back and forth on the other side of the table. "Fifty years since you're questionably legal activities first pinged my radar. Fifty years, I've had my eyes on you. Fifty years, I've been trying to figure out what it is about you, in particular, that rubs me the wrong way." She stopped and turned toward T'Neri, who only watched impassively. "I'll admit, I've never trusted information brokers. You people think you can control the whole galaxy by controlling the flow of information—and with the right secrets in your possession, maybe you can. And nobody should have that much power."

T'Neri spread her hands as far as her shackles would allow. "And yet I sit here in chains."

"Yes, you do," Anaya replied, with perhaps a bit too much relish. "The information you sell is a weapon, T'Neri. And someone has been using it to _great_ effect."

"I see," T'neri said coolly. She leaned forward and folded her hands on the table. "Tell me, Detective: if someone buys a gun and shoots another person dead, do you hold the manufacturer of the weapon responsible? The shop owner who ordered it? The clerk who sold it? No, they have nothing to do with what the shooter did with their product. The information I trade in is the same." She shrugged. "I provide a service. What my clients do with it is none of my concern."

"All right, I'll gove you that much," Anaya bit out. She slammed the stack of datapads onto the table and spread them out where T'Neri cold read them. "But it doesn't explain any of this. _Tens of thousands_ of credits funneled into a secret account. Surveillance software planted in private computers. Direct correspondence with mercenaries, pirates, and assassins, resulting in _at least_ thirteen deaths over the past four years that can be linked directly. To. You." She allowed herself a toothy grin as she opened a file on one of the pads. "And then there's this."

A video file began to play, showing a golden-scaled female drell in a rumpled nightgown scowling into the camera. _"Do you know what time it is here?"_ she demanded. _"He went to bed hours ago—completely exhausted, by the way. And he has school tomorrow. No, I'm not going to wake him."_

And off-screen, a deep, male voice answered. _"I… of course."_

T'Neri's eyes widened. Obviously, she knew that voice. "Impossible," she whispered.

_I've got you now._

The female drell's expression softened, and she sighed. _"Just come home safe. He needs you. We both do."_ She shook her head. _"I love you, Thane."_

" _And I you,_ siha. _Always and forever,"_ the other voice replied. _"May the shield of Arashu protect you."_

T'Neri glared up at Anaya, eyes flashing, as the screen went blank. "No who's surveilling private communications?"

Her seemingly genuine indignation gave Anaya a moment's pause, but she covered her momentary surprise with a sneer. _"You_ are," she growled. "This file came from your own computer. My techs traced the call all the way to Kahje, to a settlement called"—she checked her notes—"Masav Nyahir, and the home of Thane and Irikah Krios."

Though she fought to remain calm, T'Neri was very clearly rattled.

Anaya went on. "I checked up on them, of course. Sere Krios is a surprisingly difficult man to pin down, but I did manage to track down one of his aliases. And it seems this Thane Krios is the real identity of your friend Tannor Nuara."

T'Neri raised an eyebrow, her face carefully blank. "Many of my clients operate under false names. In my field, it is poor business practice to insist upon real ones."

"But, see, now we have a problem. Because this video was recorded several days after hospital records seem to indicate he _died."_ Anaya folded her arms. "And yet the staff I spoke to seem to remember discharging him into your care. Want to explain that one to me?"

"Not particularly," T'Neri said dryly. "I don't see how my friend's personal call to his family, or any discrepancies in his medical record, are relevant here."

"They're relevant when they prove you've been knowingly harboring an assassin. Do the words 'accessory to murder' mean anything to you? Or perhaps 'aiding and abetting'?" At T'Neri's dramatically widened eyes, Anaya smirked derisively. "Oh, come on, _info broker,_ you can't possibly expect me to believe you had no idea who he is." She leaned forward bracing her hands on the table. "In fact, I believe you hired him in the first place."

Either she was an excellent actress, or else T'Neri truly was taken aback by that accusation. She shook her head with an incredulous laugh. "You can't possibly have the evidence to support that, Anaya. You're reaching, and you know it."

"Do I?" Anaya opened a file on another datapad and slid it toward her. "This was pulled from your 'business's' private server. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe it's a contract."

T'Neri read the email in silence, sick understanding dawning on her face as she doubtless began to see just how neatly she'd been caught. She covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh," she whispered tonelessly. She set the datapad down and began to look through the others, pulling up file after file, nodding with resigned horror as the mountain of evidence against her grew tall and overwhelming before her eyes. "Oh. I see."

Anaya activated her omni-tool, preparing to record. "Are you ready to make a confession?"

* * *

"Thane!" Deena sprang to her feet when she saw him approaching her cell. "How did you get in here? Anaya's made you; she's probably got the whole police department on alert!"

He nodded. "I cannot stay long, but do not worry about me. Are you all right?"

She certainly did not look 'all right.' Her face was drawn and pale, her eyes feverishly bright. She wrung her hands nervously, so tense he feared she might break her own fingers. "I'm fine," she said unconvincingly. "Well, I'm not fine, but… they didn't hurt me." She looked away, her entire posture eloquent of shame. "Thane, I… I'm sorry. I just learned that Cecilia's been feeding Ceris information for years. She had everything. All my files, my emails, my accounts. She's tapped my comm channels. Cece gave her full access to all my systems. And Ceris used all of it to frame me for everything she's made Cece do."

"I know," said Thane. "I have spoken with Cecilia; it was she who informed me of your arrest, and the charges against you. I've already reached out to some of my other contacts—they'll have you freed soon."

"No." Deena shook her head. "I can take care of this. One benefit of my profession is access to the best legal representation in the sector. I've got lawyers who could convince a jury to convict a Justicar."

"I should very much like to see that."

"To be honest, I'm more concerned about you," she said. "Anaya's located your family, Thane. She knows who they are, where they live. Ceris gave her enough to track them down!"

At another time, that news might have been terrifying. And though it was still a matter of some concern, the worst had already occurred when Ceris had learned of them. The thought of local law enforcement knowing about them seemed far less worrisome by comparison. "I do not believe the Nos Astra police to be a threat to my family, Deena," he said gently. "That Anaya had learned who I am is potentially, hmm, problematic for me, but I do not believe Irikah and Kolyat to be in any greater danger." He offered her a wry smile. "And I am well practiced in avoiding the authorities."

Despite herself, Deena chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you'd have to be." She drew a deep, steadying breath, and let it out slowly. Then she raised her eyes to his. "You said you spoke with Cecilia? Is she all right? Where is she?"

"She is unharmed, for now," Thane replied. "Some of Ceris's men apprehended her in the street shortly after your arrest. She could not—or would not—tell me where they took her, but I do believe she was hiding the call from them. She ended it rather abruptly." He shook his head. "I attempted to have the call traced, but my contacts have thus far been unsuccessful. Did you make any progress on Captain Zensha's omni-tool?"

Deena's shoulders slumped. "Only a little," she admitted. "I think Ceris is—or was, anyway—somewhere in the Terminus Systems, but that's as far as I got. I'm sorry."

"It is more than we had," he reassured her. "A small lead is better than none. I _will_ find her, Deena."

"I know you will." She gave him a small smile. "I've no idea how, but you will. Let it never be said that Thane Krios let a target get away."

* * *

"I can walk on my _own,_ you stupid mechanical fuckers," Cecilia spat, struggling uselessly against the two mechs frog-marching her down the corridor. Metal hands maintained their crushing grip on her arms, and metal feet kept up their perfectly even unison rhythm on the deck plates. Even if she were to go limp and make them drag her, she suspected, that grip and that rhythm would remain unchanged. Flesh and bone could be tricked, surprised, even reasoned with. Hydraulics and steel were another matter entirely.

A door hissed open just ahead, and the corridor opened up into a room. A large room, from the way the mechs' footsteps echoed, but not an empty one. A cargo bay, maybe? There was little time to get her bearings as the mechs hauled her forward a few steps, then released her, stepped back, and fell silent.

For all her bluster before, now she was stuck. In an unfamiliar and probably hostile place, without her cane, with barely a sound around her, she had no way to determine her surroundings. A legion of mechs could have guns aimed at her, programmed to fire if she approached them. She could be standing at the entrance to a maze of crates and equipment. She could be steps away from running smack into a containment field or tripping over a pile of spare parts. Hell, she could be trapped _in_ a containment field. Ceris could have any number of nasty surprises in store.

So she stood still, straining to hear anything over the omnipresent hum of the ship's engines. Anything to giver a clue as to where she was and what—or who—might be in here with her. But barely a sound reached her. A soft hiss that might have been a breath, or just the ventilation system. The barest scrape that might be a boot on deck plates, or cargo shifting in a crate. The creak of leather so quiet it might have been her imagination.

Was that a breeze on her face? The tingle of charged biotics somewhere near? Was the faint but familiar scent of alien flowers mixed with gun oil and sweat really there, or only the invention of her increasingly panicked mind?

"I believe you humans have a legend," a voice purred, so close she felt lips brush her ear.

Cecilia jumped and bit back a cry, her heart hammering. _"Fuck,_ Ceris," she snarled. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Must you play these stupid games?"

But Ceris continued as though Cecilia hadn't spoken. She circled Cecilia like a vulture. "The story of the prodigal child," she said, "who ran away from home and forgot herself. She spent everything she had on her vices, on the pleasures of the moment. And when she'd finally lost everything to her own excess, she came crawling back to her family, begging for forgiveness. Have I got it right?"

"Close enough," Cecilia ground out.

Ceris chuckled darkly. "Well, it seems my prodigal daughter has returned to me," she said. "But I'm afraid I'm not inclined to be as forgiving as the parent of legend."

"I'm not your daughter, Ceris."

"No," Ceris snapped, stopping directly in front of her, her voice suddenly sharp and angry. "You're right, you're not. My _daughter_ would never have betrayed me like you did. My _daughter_ died in the line of duty. _My daughter_ was far braver than you can ever claim to be." She stepped closer, so close Cecilia could feel the warmth of her body. Cool fingers traced the curve of Cecilia's cheek. "Why would you do this to me?" Ceris whispered, almost pleading. Her voice wavered as if she were trying not to cry.

Before she could think twice, Cecilia slapped Ceris's hand away. "Spare me the crocodile tears," she spat. "I'm through being your lackey."

"Oh, you are, now?" Ceris resumed her circling, letting her hand trail over Cecilia's shoulders as she moved. "And you think I'll just… let you go? No, my dear, I have other plans for you. But first, I need to know _exactly_ what you told your lady wife." She stopped behind Cecilia, gripping her shoulders with a light but implacable touch.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Cecilia shot back. Her entire body trembled with what she told herself was rage.

Ceris let out a disappointed sigh. "You're going to make me take it, aren't you? Careful, my dear. One might start to think you liked it."

Cecilia shuddered as Ceris's fingers tightened on her shoulders and Ceris's mind began to probe hers. Then she was paralyzed, helpless in the asari's thrall, utterly unable to move, to speak.

Still, she fought, as she always did, struggling desperately to force Ceris out, to tear herself away. But Ceris punched through her defenses almost instantly, and Cecilia screamed as jagged lines of white-hot agony blazed through her head, overwhelming thought and reason and purpose. Ceris ripped into her mind like a ravenous dog, and Cecilia could do nothing to stop her.


	12. So It Begins

Trust had its limits. So did patience. Even with one's beloved elder sister.

Kaedi had once promised Irikah that she wouldn't ask any questions about what Thane did for a living. Classified, her sister had said. Fine. It was actually rather intriguing, even exciting. Perhaps he was some kind of undercover agent, maybe a spy. Had his leaving the Compact been a ruse? The hanar could have allowed him—even ordered him—to marry in order to make his apparent resignation look real. He certainly seemed the type who would be willing to accept the public stigma of  _dresa'ar_ as a cover story. In fact, Kaedi had once thought, that made more sense than the idea that anyone as serious and determined as Thane might abandon the service for love. The fact that he really did seem to care for Irikah, and she him, could merely have been happy coincidence.

Kaedi had entertained that fantasy for a long time. A romantic notion, perhaps, inspired by the spy vids she and her sister had loved so much as children. But she had kept telling herself the evidence was there. When Irikah and Thane had struggled at first to make ends meet, well, the Compact didn't normally support families; it would look suspicious if they supported his, especially in light of his "desertion." When Thane bounced from menial job to menial job for over three years, those were obviously covers for the real work he was doing. And when, five years ago, Irikah had asked Kaedi if she would provide her and Kolyat with a safe refuge in case they needed it, Kaedi had ignored the twinge of fear and doubt and instead let the possibility of real danger—however distant and hypothetical—feed the fantasy.

Deep down, in all honesty, she'd never really believed it. She knew the truth was most likely far simpler—Thane really had left the Compact, he'd struggled to find work, and then finally found something that paid well but was dangerous. But she'd held onto the fantasy anyway. It kept her from worrying too much about what her sister had gotten herself into, and just who this man was she'd gotten tied up with.

And then Irikah had showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night, Kolyat in tow. They needed sanctuary, as Kaedi had promised. And Irikah, always the braver and bolder of the two of them, always the level-headed and the rational, had been terrified.

Thane was on his way, she'd said. Whatever the danger was, he would take care of it. They just needed someplace to lay low for a few days.

But a few days had turned into a week, had turned into two. Finally, Kaedi had put her foot down. She needed to know exactly what was going on, and she would no longer take "classified" for an answer.

So Irikah had told her. Kaedi's romantic illusion was irrevocably shattered, and the truth was so much worse than she could have feared.

Her sister had married a murderer.

Oh, Irikah tried to justify it. It was what he'd done for the Compact, she said. It was all he knew how to do, she said. He never hurt innocent people, she said.

Not a murderer, she insisted, but an assassin. Apparently, there was a difference.

But now here she was, hiding from some nameless evil on the strength of a coded message that meant only  _get out of the house._ Evidently, something might be coming after her and Kolyat, perhaps in order to get to Thane. And so she'd come  _here._

What if she brought that danger down on Kaedi? On Adaan?

Kaedi was therefore faced with a choice. She loved her sister and her nephew dearly, and was willing to help them out however she could. But must that extend to putting her life on the line, and that of her soon-to-be husband? No. She would be well within her rights to put them out.

But she couldn't do that, not really. Not to her sister.

So two weeks stretched to four, then six, then eight. And when whatever threat Thane had warned her about still failed to materialize—as did Thane himself, to Irikah's ever-increasing distress—Kaedi finally sat her down for a difficult conversation.

"Sister, I am worried about you. I am worried about Kolyat," she began. "You cannot continue to live like this."

Irikah stiffened. "How do you mean?"

"In fear. In hiding." Kaedi shook her head, setting her mouth in a determined line. As the younger sister, she wasn't used to speaking to Irikah this way, but it had to be done. "Even here, with us, you make yourself alone. You have withdrawn from your life, and you have forced Kolyat to withdraw from his. Yes, I said  _forced,"_ she added as Irikah's eyes flashed indignantly. "You have dragged him away from his home, his routine, and his friends. You hide with him behind locked doors and shuttered windows. You have secluded yourselves here. It is not healthy."

"You do not understand," Irikah bit out. "This is not about what is  _healthy,_ Sister. It is life or death! Thane would not have sent us here unless the danger were real and immediate."

"Immediate?" Kaedi raised her brow ridge and fixed Irikah with a hard stare. "And how long ago were you expecting him?"

Irikah actually flinched, whether at her words or the intensity of her gaze, Kaedi couldn't tell. "Don't."

"If you will not, then I must," Kaedi pressed. "How long?"

Bowing her head, Irikah sighed in defeat. "More than a month. Nearly two," she said softly.

Kaedi nodded. "Whatever it is your husband feared, it could have gotten here from anywhere in the galaxy by now. It could have found your home empty, and if it was smart, it could likely have traced you here. But  _nothing has happened,_ Irikah. I think it is safe to say the danger has passed."

"No." Irikah met her eyes again, her jaw clenched. "If the danger was past, Thane would be home."

"Sister…" Kaedi drew a deep breath. She didn't want to be the one to say this, but it seemed she must. "I think it is time to consider the possibility… that he might not be coming home."

Perhaps predictably, Irikah immediately went on the defensive. "What are you saying?" she snapped. "That he might have abandoned us? That he might be  _dead?_ No." She shook her head decisively, as if she could make her will into reality by strength of conviction alone. "No, I do not accept that. I cannot. Not without proof."

Sweet Arashu, it hurt to see her like this. Irikah had been the rational one between the two of them, self-sufficient, cool-headed, and practical. Flights of fancy and rash decisions based on high emotion were Kaedi's vices, not hers. How many times since childhood had she talked Kaedi out of her wild and romantic ideas? Enough that this sudden reversal of roles left Kaedi lightheaded and dizzy and utterly lost.

Any moment now, she would wake up. She would pull Adaan into her arms and laugh at how foolish and improbable this nightmare had been.

" _Proof?"_ she demanded incredulously, the word coming out on a weak laugh. "Sister, how would you even know? You have heard nothing from him since he sent you here." Kaedi reached out and took Irikah's hands. They were cold and limp. "There must come a time at which you allow yourself to live your life again," she said. "And you must allow Kolyat to do the same. Send him back to school, Irikah. Go back to work. I won't ask you to go home yet, but I think some small bit of normalcy will be good for you both."

Irikah shook her head again, her brow ridge knotting. "No, Kaedi, I cannot just—"

"Please." Kaedi blinked back the tears that stung at her eyes. "You know I would never ask you this if I thought there was any chance you might still be in danger. You must look at this objectively. I'm begging you. Stop living in fear."

"I…" Irikah's protests died on her lips as the logic of Kaedi's argument sank in, and she nodded slowly. "Very well."

* * *

"Orander, it is good to see you again. Have you found anything?"

The hanar dipped its front end in an approximation of a nod.  _"Yes. It was necessary for this one to call in may favors, but the_ Melinoe  _has been located. It is currently in orbit over Vem Osca, in the Xe Cha system of the Shrike Abyssal."_

Thane let out a long breath.  _Finally._ Without Deena's resources to work with, he had been forced to turn to some of his other contacts to try to hack Zensha's omni-tool and track Ceris. But the device had been code-locked to the Depths and back, and none of the hackers he trusted with such information had been able to break into it. Eventually, all other options exhausted, he had sent the omni-tool to Kahje with a query to his former handler.

The hanar priest Orander still supervised many drell who served the Compact, and knew of a few, it had said, who might have the necessary skills for such a task. It had been able to promise nothing, except to try.

It had taken a week for Orander's best techs to break the security and decrypt the data, and several more days to trace the last outgoing call. The signal had been bounced through a maze of comm buoys and relays so convoluted it was a miracle it had reached its destination at all, and had eventually been received by the onboard computer of an asari cargo ship long since reported stolen. The AML  _Melinoe_ now haunted the border between asari space and the Terminus Systems, attacking merchant vessels seemingly at random, and was said to be crewed by a bloodthirsty gang of asari and vorcha pirates. And it was captained, apparently, by one Aselda Ceris.

Pinning down the  _Melinoe_ 's precise, current location had taken Orander a further ten days. Three weeks since Thane had contacted it, and more than six since Deena's arrest, now he finally,  _finally_ had actionable intelligence. "That is excellent news,  _senyim,"_ he said. "I am deeply in your debt."

" _This one is pleased to be of service."_ Despite its polite words, something in Orander's body language, visible even in the grainy, miniature image Thane's omni-tool projected, betrayed its uneasiness.  _"If this one may make an observation, however, the proximity of the_ Melinoe  _to your current location strikes this one as suspicious. This one was under the impression that Miss Ceris was attempting to elude you."_

Thane nodded gravely. He had brought Orander up to date on much of what had happened thus far—omitting the more personal details—and agreed with its assessment. The Tasale Relay connected directly to Xe Cha, placing Vem Osca mere hours away from Illium. That Ceris should choose to hide there seemed an uncharacteristic tactical error. "Indeed. Though as the contract for her was itself a trap set by Ceris to draw me in, it seems strange to me that she would run at all." He shrugged. "Now she appears to be lying in wait. There is little doubt in my mind that this is yet another trap."

" _Her tactics are erratic,"_ Orander mused.  _"This one suspects she may be… unstable."_

"I agree." Thane suppressed a shudder as the memory of her laughter echoed in his mind, high-pitched and hysterical, bringing with it a host of physical sensations he had to force himself to ignore. "But that does not change what I must do. She must be stopped."

Though hanar had no eyes as such, Orander had always been able to make Thane feel as though it were staring directly into his soul, taking his measure. Time and distance had not diminished that capability. After a long pause, Orander finally said,  _"This one trusts you will take appropriate precautions if you attempt to confront her."_

"Of course,  _senyim."_ Coming from almost anyone else, the admonishment might have been insulting. But Orander had known Thane since his childhood in the Compact, and even still seemed to regard him with some affection. "Thank you. For everything."

" _May the light of the Enkindlers guide you."_

* * *

Ceris paced back and forth across the  _Melinoe_ 's tiny bridge, snarling. Any minute now. Any minute, the Xe Cha relay would light up and spit out a ship. And on that ship would be the man who'd killed her daughter.

She'd had a plan to deal with him. As soon as Cecilia had uncovered his name in T'Neri's records and connected him to the massacre on Cyone a decade ago, she had begun plotting her revenge. She would take down Krios and T'Neri both, in one fell swoop. It was a long-term plan, convoluted and cruel and deliciously twisted, and she would have enjoyed every second of it.

Until Cecilia had gone and fucked it all up. Ceris had relied on her human pet's weakness to keep her compliant, but she'd chosen  _precisely_ the worst possible time to grow a spine. She'd betrayed her. And Ceris was surprised at how much that hurt.

She'd halfway expected it, of course. Cecilia had fought her every step of the way throughout their relationship. There had never been any kind of actual trust between them. So Ceris had deliberately given her bad information, just to see what she'd do with it. It had been a test—one which Cecilia had failed miserably.

Still, it was one thing to expect a betrayal, and another entirely to experience it. It sat like a rock in her stomach.

In fact, the more she dwelt on it, the more nauseated she became. Finally, she fled the bridge into the head, where she vomited up her meager breakfast. She'd hardly been able to eat anything for weeks, and what little she'd been able to force down rarely stayed. And watching her carefully laid plan beginning to come apart around her, after she was so committed, was not helping matters at all.

She was sick all the time now, lightheaded and shaky. It was getting harder and harder to hide, and the crew were beginning to whisper. Oh, none of them would dare say anything to her face. They were all still too afraid of her, for now. But it might soon be time to make an example of the next vorcha or two she caught running their mouths.

Besides, as annoying as it was, this, too, had been planned for. An unfortunate side effect of what she'd set into motion, but one that meant this part of her plan, at least, was still progressing as it should.

That was a small comfort, however. She was about to face down perhaps the greatest assassin in the galaxy, and all she really wanted to do right now was lie down and sleep.

But Cecilia had forced her hand, and now she had to improvise. Ceris spat the last of the foulness from her mouth and glared at herself in the mirror, lip curling as she silently castigated herself for her weakness. Not for her sickness, but her sentimentality. She hadn't truly trusted Cecilia, but she'd wanted to. And so she'd left far too many clues on Cyone, not really believing that—

" _Aselda?"_ The intercom crackled to like with the pilot's voice.  _"A small ship has just emerged from the relay. It's him."_

"Acknowledged," Ceris snapped, the hoarseness of her voice turning the word into a snarl.

_So it begins._


	13. The Wheel of Fire

This time it wasn't mechs that came to collect her; it was vorcha. Cecilia heard their wet, hissing breaths an instant before she smelled their distinct reek of rotting fish and algae, like a stagnant pond. Two of them, by the sound of it, barged into her  _(cell)_ quarters without bothering to knock.

"Ceris says bring you. You come," one of them snarled. Or maybe he was boing polite. It was hard to tell. Vorcha always sounded like they were snarling.

But the bony, clawed fingers that jerked her out the door and down the corridor were definitely not being polite. Cecilia tried to pull free, to reach for her cane so she could walk with some measure of dignity intact, but they only tightened their grasp. The little shits were stronger than most people gave them credit for.

The vorcha hauled her back to the cargo bay Ceris seemed to be using as some kind of audience chamber. She'd been here so many times already, she probably could have found it on her own. But the thought of willingly submitting to whatever violation Ceris had in store for her made her sick.

Inside the cargo bay, the vorcha yanked her to a stop, but did not let go. Ceris was already there, making to attempt to hide her presence. She paced back and forth, muttering under her breath and cackling. Whatever was going on, she had a plan, and she was certainly enjoying herself. That could only mean trouble.

For a long time, she did not acknowledge Cecilia, continuing her unintelligible muttering—no,  _cooing_. Finally, Cecilia gritted her teeth and snapped with all the indignation she could muster, "I'm getting tired of being dragged about by your minions, Aselda. What do you want this time?"

In all honesty, six weeks of Ceris's "interrogations" had left her exhausted, shaky, and with a permanent headache. She didn't have much fight left in her. But fight she would, for as long as it took.

"Cecilia, darling, come stand by me," said Ceris, almost sweetly. "I want you with me for this."

The vorcha shoved her forward and turned her around, then finally released her. "For what?" she demanded. She struggled to keep the tremor out of her voice, but her tone rang with more dread than defiance. She stood so close to Ceris she could feel her body heat. It made her skin crawl, but she didn't dare step away.

The cargo bay doors slid open again with a soft hiss, and the stench of vorcha doubled. Several of them, it sounded like, and nervous, leading another prisoner whose footsteps remained surprisingly calm and measured. Beside her, Ceris cleared her throat. "Cecilia, my love, someone is here to…" she chuckled softly. "Negotiate for your release."

Cecilia's heart leapt into her throat. "Deena!" she cried. "Dee, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Don't give her anything, Dee, please—"

But Ceris cut her off with howling peals of laughter, and Cecilia stuttered to a baffled halt. And when Ceris did not explain herself, another voice did.

"My apologies, Cecilia. Deena is… not here."

Krios!

Cecilia didn't know whether to be relieved or crushed. If Krios was here, where was Deena? Hopefully, she was at home doing what she did best: gathering information and coordinating from behind the scenes. Because the other option—that she was still in prison for Cecilia's crimes—was just too awful to think about.

Or perhaps she simply no longer cared. The possibility remained that Deena had been unable to forgive Cecilia's betrayal, and had abandoned her to her fate. Cecilia couldn't blame her if she'd chosen to do that—it was no more than she deserved—but the thought still wrapped slimy fingers of despair around her throat and squeezed.

"So tell me again Krios," Ceris purred when her mirth subsided, "exactly what it is you're offering in exchange for my favorite plaything?"

His response was toneless and flat. "My unconditional surrender."

The words coursed through her like an electric shock, leaving her numb and breathless. He would do that… for her? Why? What motivation could he possibly have to go to such lengths on her behalf? Did he have any idea what he was getting himself into?

"No!" Cecilia gasped. She had enough guilt on her conscience; she wouldn't let him add to it. "Krios, you can't! The things she'll do to you—"

"Quiet, Cece," Ceris snapped. "Harssk, if she says another word, shoot her."

One of the vorcha hissed with entirely too much pleasure, and dug the barrel of a shotgun into the small of her back. Cecilia stumbled from the force of it.

With a predatory grin Cecilia could hear in her voice, Ceris continued, "He knows what he's committing to. Don't you, Krios?"

He didn't answer, at least not audibly.

Ceris stalked toward him, the chill of her sudden absence from Cecilia's side not the relief she had hoped it would be. "Yes, you do," she said slowly, her voice low and sultry. Cecilia imagined her trailing a hand around his shoulders as she circled him. "You know full well that you'll never leave this ship again. So my question to you is this: why? Why would you lay down your life for this human? What is she to you?"

"To me? Nothing," he replied.

Cecilia's heart sank even as her cheeks burned. As hostage negotiations went, this was a poor start.

"To my friend, however," Krios continued—and it seemed to Cecilia his words were directed at her rather than at Ceris— "she is everything."

_Everything._ The word hung in the air, a shimmering thread of hope that Cecilia hesitated to reach for. Better to let it slip by altogether than to feel it dissolve in her grasp. Did he really mean what he'd said? What it sounded like? Could Deena really still love her, after everything she'd done?

But Ceris made a skeptical noise. "And what about your family?" she demanded. "You forget just how  _well_ I know you, Krios. You wouldn't just abandon your wife and son like this. Not even for your friend's sake."

There was a long silence, and when Krios spoke again, Cecilia had to strain to hear him. "They always knew there was risk," he said. "There was no other choice. I have… already said my goodbyes."

And just like that, it clicked into place. Another puzzle piece in the enigma that was Thane Krios, one that went a long way toward explaining some of his strange behavior. He had a family! That must be the reason for his insistence on absolute secrecy regarding his identity. It explained why Deena had gone out of her way to help him. And, she suspected, it had a lot to do with exactly what he was doing here.

He had no intention of surrendering. He had a home to go back to, loved ones to support. Too much to lose. No, he was laying a trap for Ceris, with himself as the bait. And as soon as she got close enough, complacent enough, he would strike.

It would have been a good plan—if Ceris hadn't already seen right through it. Cecilia could hear it in the note of triumph in her voice as she said simply, "I see."

She wanted to cry out, to warn him, but the gun barrel digging into her spine promised messy and painful consequences.

"You know, it's a funny thing about humans," Ceris said abruptly, seeing to address the room at large. She paced back and forth between Cecilia and Krios. "They're so creative with their language. They have a story or a saying for everything. Most of them I find utterly incomprehensible, of course: metaphors rooted in a culture that's not my own." She stopped in front of Cecilia and stroked her cheek gently. "But some of them are pretty universal." She spun around to face Krios again. "One that I find particularly fitting just now goes something like this: 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.'"

"I don't understand."

"Oh, but you do. I know you do." The hairs on Cecilia's arms on the back of her neck stood on end as the air around Ceris crackled with dark energy. "You're quite the actor, Krios, I'll give you that. Back on Cyone, I really thought I had you. You play broken and defeated quite beautifully. I have to say I like seeing you that way." She lowered her voice to a menacing growl. "But if you think that trick is going to work on me again, you are sorely mistaken."

Once again, Krios said nothing. Damn him and his silence! Couldn't he see he was only making Ceris angrier?

Or maybe that was the point. Maybe he was deliberately baiting her, trying to goad her into making a mistake. But he didn't know what kind of beast he was awakening. It was pure arrogance, for him to assume he could handle an utterly enraged Ceris. She'd already beaten him once! What made him think he could defeat her this time?

Ceris waited him out, her breath hissing through teeth clenched so hard Cecilia could hear them grinding. The silence grew thicker and heavier, each passing second promising greater devastation when the storm finally broke.

But just when she thought she could stand it no longer, Krios gave in. "Very well," he said simply.

Then the air thrummed with the unmistakable sound of activated biotics, and with an earth-shattering  _boom,_ all hell broke loose.

* * *

He's waited too long. Ceris had been ready.

Thane staggered backward from the force of the biotic detonation. His Throw field had successfully freed him from the three vorcha's collective grasp, but Ceris had thrown a Warp at the same moment. The resulting explosion left the vorcha stunned—to his advantage—but also left him momentarily off-balance. Costing him not only precious seconds, but possibly his only chance at survival.

He was unarmed but for his biotics—Ceris's vorcha had seen to that when he'd come aboard. He'd planned for that. He had counted on getting close enough to engage her hand-to-hand before her henchmen could interfere. But that was no longer an option as the two vorcha menacing Cecilia shoved her aside and opened fire.

Ceris backed away, laughing, as Thane dove for cover. But no sooner had he found shelter behind a large crate than the other three vorcha recovered and joined the fray. Five against one now, all teeth and claws and bullets and flame. He silently cursed himself for losing control of the situation so quickly.

He rolled to one side as a gout of flame leapt toward him. The edge of it splashed off his shields, draining them to less than half almost instantly. Another assailant fired a heavy pistol, hardly even aiming, instead spraying high-impact rounds almost haphazardly in his direction. Pinning him down.

Thane Pulled one of the flamethrower-wielding creatures toward him. The vorcha snarled curses as he flailed and thrashed uselessly, and Thane swung him around to put his fuel tanks in the line of fire of the pistol. With a loud  _spang,_ a bullet punctured the tank, and Thane Threw the vorcha into his comrade as the fuel ignited. Two down. Three remained.

Ceris stopped laughing.

Thane vaulted over the crate and charged directly at Harssk, the vorcha with the shotgun. His shields took a direct hit, failing with the sound of shattering glass. But before Harssk could fire again, Thane tackled him to the ground and swiftly snapped his neck. Snatching up the shotgun, he turned, still on one knee, and blasted another vorcha coming up from behind. The shotgun bucked in his hands, and he tossed it aside in disgust, snatching up the fourth vorcha's pistol instead.

The last vorcha had wisely taken cover, but now stood and aimed another flamethrower. Just out of range, Thane shielded his eyes with his left hand, and with his right, put two bullets in the vorcha's skull.

That only left Ceris. Teeth bared, she drew an assault rifle from its holster on her back and opened fire.

Forced to seek cover again, Thane ducked behind another heavy crate. But no sooner had he slid into position than the crate floated off the deck and away from him. And then, propelled by Ceris's biotics, it launched itself directly at him.

He didn't have time to react. The impact drove the air from his lungs and knocked him three meters to land sprawling on his back, coughing. The pistol flew from his hand, and his head struck the deck with enough force to cause bright lights to explode behind his eyes. Momentarily stunned, he could only cling desperately to what tenuous vestiges of consciousness remained to him as Ceris approached.

She took her time, hips swaying, her rifle dangling carelessly from her fingertips. "I'd hoped you'd put up more of a fight," she pouted. "This was much more fun last time." With a sigh, she lifted the rifle again. "I lied, by the way. I'm not going to kill you. Not here, not now. But I do need you out of commission for a good long while."

His head still swimming from the concussion, Thane barely processed her words. The ringing in his ears made it difficult to focus. He tried to get away from her, but his limbs responded only sluggishly and with little of their usual coordination. He was recovering, but not quickly enough.

Ceris knelt, pinning him down with a knee on his thigh, and pressed the muzzle of her rifle into his knee. "Brace yourself, Krios," she said with a smirk. "This is going to hurt."

She pulled the trigger. He flinched—

But instead of firing, the rifle erupted in red arcs of energy as it overheated in an instant. Ceris swore, her head snapping up to glare at the source of the sabotage.  _"You,"_ she spat incredulously. "How?"

Cecilia's omni-tool still glowed around her arm, and her face was set in an expression of grim triumph. "I can hear you, Aselda," she bit out. "Enough. This ends here. Now."

With a snarl that bordered on a scream, Ceris flung her weapon aside, then spun and Threw Cecilia into the bulkhead behind her. She slumped to the deck, senseless.

The distraction gave Thane the opportunity he needed. As soon as Ceris shifted her weight off him, he gathered what strength he had left, rolled aside, and staggered to his feet, shaking his head to stop the room spinning. His vision blurred and his head still ached fiercely, but he couldn't let that slow him down. He needed to finish this fight, and quickly.

Ceris turned slowly back toward him, breathing heavily, teeth bared. In that moment, she resembled nothing more than a predatory animal, provoked into madness. Her biotics flared to life in her hands once again, and Thane backed away, timing his response carefully.

And the instant her Singularity began to form, he fired back with the strongest Warp he could muster.

Prepared this time for the reaction, Thane managed to keep his balance as the combined biotic effects detonated. Ceris, however, was taken entirely by surprise. The force of the explosion swept her backward to land facedown on the deck. She groaned, still conscious, but didn't immediately move.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Thane glanced over at Cecilia—unconscious, but still breathing. Good.

Ceris pushed herself up from the deck and sat back on her heels, bracing herself with one hand and wiping a trickle of blood from her mouth with the other. Slowly, she raised her head and met his eyes. The smear of purple staining her teeth and chin gave her a feral aspect as an unhinged smile spread across her face.

Thane strode toward her, snatching the pistol back up off the deck and aiming it between her eyes. A twitch of his finger, and all this would be over.

But Ceris laughed, low and breathy at first, edging steadily toward hysteria. "You're not going to kill me."

Thane's aim did not waver. "And why is that?" he demanded. "After what you have done, what reason have I to spare you?"

"I have seen into your mind, your heart," she said. She turned her head and spat blood onto the deck, still laughing. "I know you, perhaps better than you know yourself. You would never allow harm to come to your child!"

A chill of terror shivered up Thane's spine, transmuting to icy anger as his grip tightened on the pistol. "If you think you can save yourself by threatening my son—"

Ceris fairly howled with laughter. "Not your son!" she jeered. She doubled over, her mirth echoing off the bulkheads in mocking peals as Thane stared in bafflement. Catching her breath, she straightened and placed her bloody hand gently on her belly, and leered up at him with that deranged grin. "Not your son. Your  _daughter."_


	14. Against the Dying of the Light

The words reverberated through him like a thunderclap. "My… no." Thane staggered back a step and lowered the gun. His head spun, and his chest tightened until he could barely breathe. "You're lying." The words came out in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm not, and you know it. You feel it." She climbed to her feet, wincing, and advanced on him where he stood rooted in place. She seized his wrist, and the pistol slipped from his nerveless fingers.

It seemed to fall in slow motion. The clatter it made when it struck the floor startled him, and he flinched. Ceris kicked it aside.

Pressing his hand to her belly, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Feel it," she hissed, her breath hot on his cheek. "Feel  _her."_

He tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. She was mad. Even if she was pregnant, even if it was somehow true the child was his, surely there hadn't been enough time to—

But there it was. Not a bump or a kick, but something more like a… a spark. A tiny jolt of energy, just enough to react with his biotics and make his palm tingle.  _"Sweet Arashu,"_ he gasped, and turned wide eyes up at Ceris.

"She recognizes you," she said, almost gently.

Her ice-gray eyes had gone black, and Thane found himself transfixed. He struggled to move, to speak, but he was powerless against her. A single word was all he could manage. "Impossible."

Ceris laughed again, but softly this time. The high, tight undercurrent of insanity was gone, replaced by a tone of wistful nostalgia. "Not at all," she murmured. With her free hand, she caressed his face, stroking his frills as a lover would. "Not at all."

Thane fought to free himself from her thrall, but in vain. His face grew hot with shame as his body reacted to her touch, a traitorous desire burning in his core. Animal instinct responding to stimuli.

"You don't remember, but I do," Ceris crooned. "You fought me so hard, even as your body betrayed you." She trailed her fingers down his chest, over his stomach, and lower. "Deep down, in some dark, hidden corner of yourself, you wanted me. You want me now."

" _No."_

"Yes."

Thane's vision tunneled until only those flat black eyes remained. Icy, scrabbling fingers wormed their way into his head, sharp claws tearing at the edges of his mind. He fought to maintain awareness of his surroundings, to keep himself from being swept away, to push back against her invasion. But he didn't know how to defend himself. Her laughter echoed around him—out loud or only in his mind, he couldn't tell. She plunged into his innermost being like cold steel into flesh, and he knew.

He knew what was real and what was lies. He saw the trick of biotics she'd used to keep him off-balance, and the truth she'd used the deception to reveal. He saw the depth of her madness, and her despair. The pain that had driven her to such heights of cruelty. A great outpouring of fury and anguish and glee that overwhelmed his defenses and left him helpless under her onslaught until—

—until, an instant before he was lost entirely, he was free, the sound of a gunshot fading from the air. He stumbled backward, nearly falling, gasping for air as if he'd been drowning. A high-pitched shriek filled his ears. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from Ceris.

She was doubled over in pain, clutching her shoulder. Dark purple blood leaked out between her fingers, and her right arm hung limp and useless. "You spineless, traitorous  _bitch!"_ she spat.

Thane turned, and to his astonishment found Cecilia on her feet, wavering dizzily, but with his discarded pistol in her trembling hands. She still pointed it at Ceris, following the sound of her voice.

"Fuck you, Aselda," she ground out through clenched teeth. "I won't let you do this anymore."

Ceris laughed breathlessly, mirthlessly, her face contorted into a grimace of pain and fury. "Oh, you won't, will you?" She stalked toward Cecilia, deliberately staying in her line of fire as if daring her to shoot again. "If you kill me, my commandos will be down here in seconds, and you will never see your beloved wife ag—"

Cutting her off with a primal-sounding scream, Cecilia pulled the trigger.

The shot hit Ceris high in the right side of her chest. She staggered backward, coughing, gagging, choking. The wound bubbled and frothed as she struggled to breathe, drowning in her own blood. Sinking to her knees, she stared up at Cecilia, and the look on her face was pleading. Whether she meant to ask for rescue or simply forgiveness, Thane couldn't tell. Ceris couldn't speak. And Cecilia, of course, couldn't see,

And then Ceris fell, senseless, facedown on the deck. More blood pooled around her, the thick, metallic smell of it overpowering in the sudden silence.

Cecilia stood frozen, trembling, the gun still aimed where Ceris had been. Tears streamed down her face, and her breath came in ragged, shuddering gasps. "Sere Krios?" she rasped. "Are you there? Are you all right? Did I…"

Thane approached cautiously, deliberately letting his footfalls sound on the deck plates. "I am unharmed, thanks to you," he said. "You have saved me twice today, and for that I am in your debt."

She nodded stiffly and lowered the gun, but still didn't move otherwise. "Where is Deena?" she asked, her voice a barely audible whisper. "Were you able to free her?"

"I tried, but she wouldn't have it," he said. "It would have made her a fugitive from justice. However, her advocate's reputation as a miracle worker is well earned—she received only a short sentence, and was released yesterday. She is well, but concerned about you."

Before Cecilia could reply, the sound of shouting voices and running footsteps outside signaled the arrival of Ceris's promised reinforcements. Asari, this time, not vorcha. Thane sprang toward the cargo bay doors, omni-tool activated, and quickly jammed the lock. "That will not hold for long," he said. "Come. We must leave immediately."

"How?" Cecilia swallowed hard, her voice edged with the beginnings of panic. "There's only one way out!"

Thane glanced around for an escape route. He quickly located a ventilation duct large enough to crawl through, partially hidden behind a stack of crates. Perfect—when the commandos came through the door, they wouldn't see it immediately. He seized Cecilia's hand and pulled her toward it. "This way. I will guide you."

But the grate covering the duct proved stubborn, rusted in place, painted over, and filthy. Thane swore under his breath. There wasn't time to locate another, though, as the commandos outside forced the lock on the doors. Four of them burst in, rifles at the ready, skidding to a halt when they saw Ceris's body. One stayed back, shouting into her radio for a medic, while the other three began a systematic search of the cargo bay.

The catch on the grate finally gave way with a squeal of distressed metal. Instantly alerted, the commandos closed on their position as Thane pulled on the frame with all his strength. Paint cracked and rust flaked as it slowly began to separate from the bulkhead. Too slowly.

They weren't going to make it. Time for a new plan. He turned back toward Cecilia—

—and she was gone.

"Hey! Looking for me?"

To his horror, he found Cecilia halfway across the cargo bay, standing beside a rack of canisters whose red and yellow labels proclaimed their contents highly explosive. She sprayed a handful of rounds from her pistol in the commandos' direction, forcing them to take cover, then ducked behind the rack again. "Any time now, Krios!" she shouted as they began to return fire. Buying him time.

"Cecilia, get away from there!" With a mighty heave, Thane finally wrenched the grate free. And as soon as the commandos stopped firing to reload, he dashed toward Cecilia.

Too late. One of the commandos stood, omni-tool flaring, and Overloaded the canisters. They exploded in a gout of greenish-yellow flame.

Thane skidded to a halt, flinging up his arms to shield his face as the heat of the blast washed over him.  _"Cecilia!"_

He rushed forward as the flames died back, his heart sinking. Cecilia lay unmoving, badly burned, her skin flayed open by shrapnel. He pressed two fingers to her neck, but he knew he would find nothing.

_Kalahira, Mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness._

The commandos had seen him now, and several bullets ricocheted off his shields as he sprinted back toward the ventilation duct. Their shouts followed him down the shaft as he made his escape.

* * *

" _Thane!_ Oh, thank the Goddess, you're back!" Deena jumped to her feet and rushed to greet him as he came in the door. "Are you all right? Did you…"

She trailed off as she took in his demeanor: slumped shoulders, knotted brow, and dull, downcast eyes. She'd seen him play the part of a defeated man before. But he had no reason to pretend with her.

And he had returned alone.

"Thane, what's happened?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He tucked his hands behind his back and shifted his weight uncomfortably, hesitating. "Deena… I'm afraid I must bring you terrible news."

Deena's heart leapt into her throat as a thousand possibilities flooded her mind at once, each one worse than the last. "Did Ceris escape?" she asked. "Does she still have Cece? Did she hurt her? Thane,  _where is my bondmate?"_

"Ceris is dead. And…" Thane trailed off and bowed his head, then seemed to gather his courage and met her eyes again. "So is Cecilia. I am sorry."

The whole world narrowed around her, drained of sound and color, dry and brittle and splintering. "How?" she demanded, even her own voice muffled in her ears. "You were supposed to rescue her!"

"Deena, my mission was to kill Ceris," he said. "Recuing Cecilia was a secondary objective. Yet it was she who rescued me—twice." He looked down and shook his head. "And then she sacrificed herself so I could escape."

"Oh, Goddess…" Deena back away from him and collapsed into a chair, the room spinning around her. Her vision blurred, but not with tears, and the air left her in a rush, leaving her deflated. Hollow. Numb.

She had lost bondmates before. Her first, more than two hundred years ago, had been a salarian she'd met when he was already twenty-five. She'd had little more than a decade to spent with Araji before old age and illness took him. Their romance had been brief but intense, and though she'd had time to prepare herself for his death, she had mourned him for a long time afterward.

But such was the nature of life for an asari. Pursuing relationships with members of shorter-lives species required one to take a philosophical view of death, and to simply enjoy the time given. It was a learned skill, to be sure, and a difficult one, but Araji's death had taught her the necessity of it.

She would have outlived Cecilia, regardless. She'd always known that. But Cece had only been in her forties; they should have had decades more before the inevitable. Deena simply wasn't prepared to lose her.

Her own voice rang in her ears: memories of the last time they'd spoken. The clipped tightness of righteous anger. The words carefully chosen to wound.  _Cece, I loved you!_

Truth be told, she'd never stopped. But now it was too late to tell her so.

And still the tears wouldn't come. She reached inside, searching for the pain, the grief, the guilt that she knew was there, wanting to drag it up into the light and get it over with. But she couldn't find it. There was only that hollow, empty numbness.

"Tell me everything," she said dully.

And he did. In that maddeningly calm, objective way he had, as if he were delivering a mission report, he described his false surrender to Ceris, the way she'd called his bluff, and the ensuing battle. He told her how Ceris had tried to force herself on him again, and how Cecilia had stopped her. Had killed her. He told her about trying to escape Ceris's commandos, and how Cece had drawn their fire while he found an escape route, and how her bravery had cost her her life.

But as Thane relayed everything that had happened aboard the  _Melinoe,_ Deena sensed he was holding something back.

Another time, in other circumstances, she might have left him to his secrets. But the longer she kept him talking, the longer it would be before she had to confront the yawning void that threatened to swallow her whole.

"You're leaving something out," she said, perhaps a bit more sharply than she intended.

Thane looked taken aback, then schooled his features to a careful neutral and raised his brow ridge. "Why do you think that?"

"Because I do!" Deena snapped. Grateful to feel anything at all, she latched onto the surge of anger that welled up from the pit of her stomach and lashed out with it. "Reading people is what I do, Krios, and I can read you like a book. You're not nearly the enigma you think you are."

His eyes flashed, and for a moment she thought he might respond to her outburst with one of his own. But then he sighed. "So I have been learning, of late." He sat down across from her and folded his hands on the table, studying them for a long moment. "Deena," he said finally, "is it possible… can an asari lie, through a meld?"

Grateful though she was to have something else to talk about, the question took her by surprise. But the hope in his eyes made her stomach twist, and her momentary anger faded away to be replaced by a gnawing dread. "No," she said slowly. "Well, not exactly. For the very disciplined, it's possible to mislead a partner somewhat, by determining what memories we allow them to see, but the very nature of the meld makes it difficult. And making things up wholesale is practically impossible." She narrowed her eyes, not certain she wanted to know, but feeling compelled to ask anyway. "Why?"

He only winced and looked away. "It is as I feared, then."

"Thane, what happened? What aren't you telling me?"

"I… it's nothing." Thane shook his head. "It isn't important anymore."

Deena folded her arms. "It is to you. Whatever it is."

"You have your own grief," he said flatly. "I see no need to burden you with mine."

"Thane, tell me," she insisted. Perhaps selfishly, she hoped that whatever it was, she could do something to help—if only to keep herself distracted. "We'll share the burden together."

He sighed heavily. She thought he was about to argue further, but he finally gave in. "During the confrontation with Ceris, I learned something… disturbing," he admitted. "She was with child."

"Why is that—oh." Deena covered her mouth as the obvious conclusion dawned on her. "Oh, Goddess."

"When she told me the child was mine, I did not want to believe her. But her claim caught me off guard. I hesitated. And that was enough for her to gain the upper hand." His jaw clenched. "She tried to force another meld on me, and I could see the truth of it. Her memories of…" He shuddered, then composed himself again. "As I said, it is not important. She is dead, and the child will never be born. It changes nothing."

"If it wasn't important, it wouldn't be bothering you."

"My feelings on the matter are… conflicted," he confessed. "When I take a contract, I feel it is my duty to avoid harming innocents as much as I can. That is not always possible, of course, and I pray daily to be forgiven for the suffering I have caused."

He stood and began to pace back and forth. "During my service to the Compact, there were two instances in which my assigned target was a pregnant woman. Both times, I completed my contract, but they sat heavily on my conscience. Those unborn children were innocent, but their deaths could not be avoided." He shrugged. "Since I began freelancing, I have been able to be more discerning in the contracts I take, and have thus far managed to avoid such situations. But even then, had it ever come down to the safety of my family or the life of a fetus too young to survive on its own, the choice would have been easy. Knowing that Ceris's child was  _mine,_ however, even if conceived by violence… that is what continues to haunt me." He shook his head. "Even though I know it should not. There was no other option. It changed nothing, and yet…"

"And yet you have to keep telling yourself that," Deena said mildly.

Thane stopped his pacing and met her eyes, his brow ridge knotted plaintively. "Indeed."

Deena let out a long breath. She knew what he needed—what they both needed. She just didn't want to say it. She didn't want to have to face the empty apartment, the empty bed, the empty hole in her heart alone. But there was nothing else to be done.

"Go home, Thane," she said softly. "Go back to your family. Try to put this mess behind you."

But still he hesitated. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine." Deena stared around the apartment, a bone-deep exhaustion settling over her. "I need to put Cece's affairs in order and… I should probably do that by myself." She offered him a weak smile. "There isn't really anything you can do here."

"Very well," he replied with a nod. "But if you ever need anything, please call me. I am deeply in your debt."

Deena stood and embraced him. He stiffened in surprise, then she felt his hands gently patting her back.

"You're a good man, Thane Krios," she said. "Whatever happens, don't let that change."

The look he gave her as he pulled away was… strange. Like he wanted to protest. And when he left, the silence felt like judgement.


	15. To Have and to Hold

Irikah had been back at work for three days when her omni-tool chimed with the message she'd secretly begun to despair of ever seeing:  _Siha—It's safe. Come home._

Not  _go home._ He'd said  _come home._ He was already there.

Relief crashed over her in a dizzying wave. But as it subsided, she found herself seized not with the joy she'd expected, but by a seething anger. Of course it would be now, out of nowhere, that he would drop out of the sky and expect her to just be there. Of course, it would be when she'd nearly given up. Of course it would be at the most inconvenient possible moment, in the middle of a delicate experiment she couldn't just drop, timed carefully around Kolyat's school schedule.

It would be some time yet before her experiment finished running, and then she would have to pick up Kolyat, and then they would have to go back to Kaedi's to pack their things. Well, she had spent two months waiting on him and his job—he could wait a while longer for hers. Let him worry for a little bit.

Perhaps a little spitefully, she didn't reply.

* * *

It was hours later that she finally arrived home, and there he was. He rushed to embrace her.  _"Siha,"_ he sighed, and the relief in his voice was so palpable Irikah had to fight to hold onto her anger. "Where have you been?"

She pulled away and glared at him. "The lab," she snapped defiantly. "And Kolyat's been at school. Life goes on while you're away, Thane."

"The lab…" he repeated blankly. "You went back to work? Before you heard from me?" He gritted his teeth and glared back at her. "That is the first place someone would look for you. Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put yourself in? You put  _Kolyat_ in?"

"What did you expect?" she shot back as Kolyat flinched and clung to her side. "That we hide away indefinitely? I was going to lose my job. Kolyat was falling behind. And we were both going mad with worry that something had happened to  _you."_

Her piece said, the anger died away. She finally took a moment to really look at him, to see how tired and haggard he was, and from more than just fretting about her safety. "Something  _did_ happen to you."

Thane shook his head. "It was a… difficult mission," he admitted. "I'll be all right."

Irikah narrowed her eyes skeptically, not buying his dismissal. But before she could pry further, Thane crouched down and held out his arms to Kolyat. "It is good to see you, son," he said.

But Kolyat only folded his arms, his little face hardening as his lower lip trembled. "You missed my  _brela,"_ he spat. "You were supposed to be there. You  _promised."_

Thane froze, and something seemed to drain out of him. Kolyat had never spoken to him like that before. It seemed to catch him off-guard. And though he'd never had trouble disciplining Kolyat before, now he only stared, at a loss for words.

It wasn't just guilt she saw written on his face, though there was plenty of that. It was something more akin to grief, or disappointment, or shock… but none of those were quite right, either. For reasons Irikah could not fathom, Kolyat's insolence had stunned him out of all proportion.

She couldn't help but feel a little guilty, herself. After all, she had made no effort to hide her irritation today. And perhaps she shouldn't have let Kolyat hear her snap at Thane the way she had—after all, such conversations were not for children's ears. So it was with a venom born as much of shame as anger that she hissed,  _"Kolyat Krios!_ You will show your father more respect!"

But as Kolyat scowled up at her, wide-eyed and betrayed, Thane shook his head. "No. He is right. I have disappointed him. I have disappointed you both." His shoulders drooped. "Kolyat, I am sorry I had to miss your  _brela._  Though I cannot promise to change, I can only hope that one day you will understand, and forgive me."

Kolyat stared at him for a moment, blinking at him in confusion. Then he huffed and stomped past Thane into his bedroom, and slammed the door.

Thane watched him go, then bowed his head with a heavy sigh and stood. Whatever this "difficult mission" had been, it had clearly left him unsettled, more so than Irikah had seen in a very long time.

"He'll come around," she said, more confidently than she felt.

"I know. But I had hoped…" Thane trailed off and shook his head. "It's not important. I'm just glad you're both safe."

"Who did you think was after us? And why?"

"It doesn't matter," said Thane, dismissively and a little too quickly. "She's dead now."

Hands on her hips, Irikah glared at him. "We lived in hiding for two months," she bit out. "I would like to know who we were hiding from—and how she learned about us."

Thane grimaced and looked like he was about to argue, but then thought better of it. "My contract was a trap," he confessed. "The target was an asari pirate named Ceris. From what I have managed to deduce, she lured me into an ambush."

"What do you mean, what you've managed to deduce?" Irikah demanded, her mind already buzzing with questions. "Don't you remember?"

"I do not," he ground out, "but I believe we fought. She wounded me, at least." His frills flushed darker red with humiliation as his jaw clenched. "And then she… she forced a meld on me. She invaded my mind and searched through my memories—that's how she learned about you. And then she used the meld to erase my memory of the encounter."

Irikah felt sick at the thought. She hadn't even known asari were capable of that, let alone that anyone would be twisted enough to violate a person in such a way. "Goddess of oceans," she breathed.

"Ceris escaped that time, and it took much longer than I anticipated to track her down again," Thane continued. "There were… setbacks. But as I said, she is dead, and the danger is past."

But Irikah was not about to let this go. "What did she want? Why set a trap for you in the first place?"

"I am not certain."

"That is not an acceptable answer."

" _Siha,_ my line of work creates many enemies," he protested. "I knew something like this was all but inevitable—that's why I've gone to such lengths to protect you." He shook his head. "All I know about Ceris is that she had some kind of personal vendetta against me. I think it had to do with an assignment I took for the Compact more than ten years ago, but I never figured out the connection. She was not… entirely sane."

The echo of remembered terror in his eyes brought up a memory that still haunted her nightmares. "When you called… the look on your face," she said quietly. "You thought it was too late, didn't you? You thought she'd already found us."

"I did." He took her hands gently in his and wouldn't meet her eyes. His voice was strained. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you."

"You needn't worry about that now." Irikah pulled one hand free to cup his cheek. "You're home now, and we're safe. That's all that matters." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. And as they wound their arms around each other, she could feel some of the tension start to leave him. He was home. He was safe.

Everything else would come with time.

* * *

Later that evening, they stood side by side on the balcony outside their bedroom, looking out over the ocean. Their first family dinner in months had been an awkward affair: Kolyat had refused to speak to or even look at Thane, and Thane had seemed too preoccupied to care. All of Irikah's attempts to spark conversation had fallen flat. They may as well have been three strangers sitting around the table.

But then Kolyat had taken himself to bed, sulking and grumbling, and now they had a few moments with nothing to do but reconnect.

Leaning one elbow on the railing, Irikah turned and studied Thane, mentally comparing the man standing beside her with the boy she'd fallen unexpectedly in love with a decade ago. He'd been all of seventeen, bold and brash and arrogant and utterly clueless about how to woo a woman. That and his unabashed flair for the dramatic had led him to break into her lab, fight off the thugs who'd come to threaten her, and then throw himself at her feet begging  _her_ to save  _him._ It might have been frightening if he hadn't been so obviously in earnest. But that earnestness had intrigued her, so she'd decided to humor him for a while.

As she'd gotten to know him, she'd found him serious, intelligent, and endearingly naïve, and to her surprise had begun to return his ardor. She'd had to teach him how to function in civilian society, but he was a quick study. By the time they'd married, he'd already come a long way. And in the years since, he'd grown somewhat humbler—though perhaps not by much—and his brashness had mellowed to a quiet self-assurance that she found irresistibly alluring.

That self-assurance, however, had been worrisomely missing this evening. Whoever this Ceris had been, she had shaken him profoundly. It was a good thing he'd killed her, Irikah mused—because if he hadn't, she'd be sorely tempted to go after the bitch herself.

Now, Thane stared out at the sea as he turned the coin she'd given him over and over in his hand, lost in thought or meditation or memory. Slipping her arm around his waist, Irikah tried to follow his gaze, over the ocean to the blank horizon. "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly.

He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, not turning to look at her. "What I could have done differently."

Irikah frowned. "What do you mean?"

"An innocent person— _two_ innocent people died, in the confrontation with Ceris," he said. "I cannot help but wonder if one of them could have been saved."

A lump formed in her throat, tears pricking at her eyes. That had always been his tragedy, hadn't it? That his conscience stood so at odds with his fate. She couldn't help but wonder who he could have been, had the hanar never stolen him away and molded him into their instrument of death.

"It's no use dwelling on it now," she said, as much to herself as to him. "What's done is done, Thane. You're home now.  _Be_ home."

He bowed his head. "Of course. I'm sorry I've not been… fully present this evening."

"I'm not looking for an apology. I'm worried about you." She nodded at the coin in his hand. "Is it helping?"

Now he did turn to face her, and blinked in confusion. "What?"

"To bring you peace of mind."

"Ah." Thane gave her a wry smile. "No, I'm afraid not." He looked down at the coin again, rubbing his thumb over the face of Arashu stamped on the obverse, then slipped it back into his pocket.

"Perhaps your troubles are too much for its magic," said Irikah dryly.

Thane chuckled just as dryly. "Perhaps." He reached out and took her hand, raised it to his lops, and kissed it softly. "Or perhaps I have all the magic I need right here beside me."

His words, and the look in his eyes as he said them, kindled a fire within her, a heady, dizzying heat spreading through her body. With her free hand, she stroked his frills gently, and he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "Come to bed, Thane," she whispered. "Make love to me."

He allowed her to lead him back inside by the hand, and shut the door firmly behind them. Irikah watched him as he undressed, admiring him as she always did. He really was beautiful; there was no other word for it. The rich emerald green of his scales, glimmering in the lamplight. The way his muscles moved under his skin, all power and danger and grace. The look in his eyes when he met hers, full of heat and love and awe and perpetual astonishment.

But this time, she noticed something else, too. She reached out and ran her fingers over his right shoulder, where the scales grew discolored, malformed, and crooked over puckered skin. "This is new," she said softly.

He took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Chemical rounds. The damage is superficial."

But a chill settled in her stomach anyway. This wasn't the first time he'd come home with new scars, of course, but it always hurt to find them. She stepped back and studied him critically, and almost immediately found another one on his side. This scar was longer, deeper, like a seam running across his ribs. It had to have taken weeks to recover from. "This one is not. What happened to you?"

"I am fine,  _siha."_ He drew her in and embraced her, and she melted into him, reveling in the feeling of his scales against hers, of his strong arms surrounding her, holding her tight. "You needn't worry. I will always come home to you."

Irikah traced the scar on his side with trembling fingers, swallowing hard to hold back tears. She tucked her head under his chin, partly so she could hear his heartbeat, and partly so he couldn't see her face. "Promise me, Thane."

He didn't hesitate in his answer. "I promise." His voice, soft and textured as crushed velvet, rolled through her like a shiver, shaking a memory loose.

_I'm more annoyed than worried this time. "Kolyat's_ brela  _is in less than two weeks, Thane. Why must you go now?"_

_He doesn't look up from his packing. "You know why. We have had this discussion before."_

" _Yes, but…" I sigh. I know there will be no stopping him. "Will you be back in time?"_

_Now he does stop. He turns and looks at me, love and regret and determination written on his face in equal measure. "I will,_ siha.  _I promise."_

_I know he means it. But I know just as well that it's a promise he may be unable to keep._

She had to bite her tongue to keep from speaking the memory aloud. He knew. She could hear it in the slight acceleration of his heart, in the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath. She could feel it in the way his arms tightened around her, as if to reassure her that  _I will do better._ He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it, too.

Thane pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax, firmly setting her fears and doubts aside. Just for tonight. Tonight, her husband was home, and she was in his arms, and she would have this moment. They would make a memory she could cherish, one that would help sustain her the next time he—

No. She wasn't going to think about that, not now.

Irikah pulled back a little and tipped her face up to his, and he kissed her again, with a scorching hunger that arced down her spine to burn low in her belly. His tongue probed at her lips, and she opened to him as he slid her nightgown off her shoulders to pool at her feet. She shivered in the cool air and anticipation, and he tugged her back in. His fingers danced lightly down her spine, trailing fire in their wake. She moaned into his mouth, then broke the kiss to gasp for air. Lightheaded, knees weak, she clung to him just to remain upright.

He chuckled softly. Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing to her. He bent his head to kiss her neck, then nipped gently at her frills and the pleated skin of her throat, sending little shocks of pleasure shivering through her until she whimpered.

Well, two could play at that game. Irikah slid her hand slowly down his side, tracing spiral patterns over his ribs, making his breath hitch. Then she curled her fingers around his hip, pressing her thumb into the soft spot just inside the bone. He rewarded her with a low, breathless growl. She smiled, then yelped in surprise as he suddenly swept her off her feet, tossing her onto the bed and pouncing on her as they both laughed.

Then their eyes met, and he stopped, their laughter dying away. Poised above her on his hands and knees, he stared into eyes, his brow ridge furrowed in an expression of pure adoration. Irikah shivered under his worshipful gaze. Who was she, that he should look at her like that? Arashu Herself, one would think. She stared back, her breath coming heavy as her throat tightened. Reaching up, she stroked his frills, urging him down for another kiss.

And oh, sweet Arashu, did he oblige.

He started slowly, the barest brushing of lips, a mingling of breath like wordless prayers. His next kiss was gentle, almost chaste. With the next, she began to feel the same fire as before. Again and again he kissed her, each one deeper and more urgent, more demanding, until he left her breathless.

And still he didn't stop. Slowly, almost reverently, he trailed a line of kisses down her jaw and neck, over her chest and stomach. Each one lingered, laden with meaning and awe and wonder. Each one ached exquisitely until she thought she might cry. By the time she realized what he meant to do, she trembled with emotion and want.

And when his tongue flicked out into that secret place between her legs, she felt it like an electric shock through her whole body. Her back arched, her hands fisted in the blanket, and she gasped, almost a sob. It didn't take long before every muscle in her body spasmed and she cried out as lights exploded behind her eyes.

When she caught her breath again, he was there, pressing his lips to hers once more, and she could taste herself there, her own arousal and ecstasy. It only made her want more.

And more he gave her. She hooked her legs around his thighs as he slid inside her, and he set a slow, deliberate rhythm that threatened to drive her mad. She squirmed with impatient need, wishing he would move faster, but he only cupped her face with one gentle hand, whispering soothing nonsense into her ear. He was savoring every second of this, every sensation. So she surrendered, clutching his shoulders and panting as a red heat coiled in her belly, building and burning and ready to explode.

When she came again, it was with a breathy, shuddering groan that seemed dragged up from the tips of her toes. Her universe narrowed to the confines of her own body and the pleasure so intense it was almost pain. It roared through her, cresting like a wave on the ocean, then crashed over her in glorious release, finally subsiding to leave her dizzy and sated and utterly spent.

Thane rolled off of her, coughing as he, too, caught his breath, then gathered her back into his arms. "I've missed you,  _siha,"_ he murmured.

"And I, you." Content to allow herself to simply be held, safe and secure, Irikah buried her face in his chest and breathed deep of his scent, the scent that was home more than any four walls could ever be. And she fell blissfully asleep in the warmth of his embrace.


End file.
